ZDW Phantom Duck
by VAPX007
Summary: GRIM OOC AU ETC. Negaduck, Darkwing Duck, Launchpad and Director Hooter are finished. SHUSH is also gone. It's 4 years on, and what has become of everyone? Warning: VIOLENT graphics in chapter 1.
1. A Press of a Single Button

_A/N: I disclaim all ownership of such things that are in the text as follows:_

Darkwing Duck _characters and concepts are from Disney. _

_Quote: _"With the first link, the chain is forged. The first speech censured, the first thought forbidden, the first freedom denied, chains us all irrevocably." - _Jean Luc Picard, Star Trek Next Generation. Episode: The Drumhead. _

_In chapter one: I rewrite one of the single most vile and wretched movies that I have ever watched: _The Departed.

_This story is a thought inspired from reading the first chapter in Irual's _Hexes and Vexes.

_If you know _XFiles _you'll get the plausibility of this story ... All too well, the truth behind this fic is out there. _

_Chronos owns the many hours I've spent writing this AU. _

_So all I own is the work involved, the experience and understanding that led me to this result and my gut reaction._

_A/N: Subsequent chapters are not written in the same manner as this chapter. Bear with me, folks!_

* * *

**A Single Press of a Button (Prologue)**

* * *

Hooter looked up at Darkwing Duck from his seat.

"I quit." Darkwing Duck repeated. "I take moral objection to the motives behind this case. I ..."  
"A pity." Hooter replied in his forever monotone voice.  
"I protect the citizens."  
"Well, yes, I understand that. But you are missing the big picture."  
"That's exactly why I didn't accept direct employment with S.H.U.S.H."  
"You don't want to accept the big picture; what there is to achieve by succeeding here?"

"You must be forgetting: 'With the first link the chain is forged.' " Darkwing Duck stepped away from the desk.  
Hooter sighed. "I'm sorry I couldn't make you see the importance of this."  
"I'm sorry to see you fall to such immorality. It's not the outcome; it's who you destroy along the way." Darkwing pulled out a gas canister and made a silent exit.

* * *

Hooter sat for a long time at his desk, unmoving. Then after the lengthy pause, he raised his hand to the control panel. His hand hovered; his fingers hesitated over the intercom switch.

He pressed the button. "Agent Grizlykoff."  
"Ya, sir?"  
Hooter hesitated again. "Code: White Out."  
There was a pause on the other end, as Grizlykoff got control of his reactions to such a definite order. "Target sir?"

"Drake Mallard."

* * *

_That Night..._

"I am the terror that flaps in the night."

Negaduck glanced around him, gripping his chainsaw slung over his back. He fired it up.

"I am the excess wax on the floorboards of crime. I am Darkwing Duck!"

"Fire!" Negaduck understood in that final split moment that they were surrounded. The last thing he knew was that he was dying as nothing more significant than bait.

* * *

_Early the Next Morning..._

Gosalyn paced Darkwing Tower in a fit of nerves.  
"Gee, Gosalyn, I've been all over the city twice. I've checked all the hospitals for a duck that fit his description."  
"He could've been kidnapped by bears again."  
"Well, yeah, I guess."

Launchpad looked up, his eyes widened. "Gosalyn, quickly, get to the trap door." Dark clothed figures jumped in through the windows as Gosalyn dashed towards to trap door, her heart pounding in fear.

* * *

_The Next Hour..._

Honker Muddlefoot finished his breakfast in the relative normality of his family.

"Oh, Herb, dear." His mother said from across the room as his father came in the room. "Did Drake tell you they were moving?"  
"Moving?" Honker put down his spoon. Highly unlikely, finding a more-or-less pre-existing tunnel back to Audubon Bay Bridge had taken a great deal of research and luck on part of the superhero turned father.

"Oh, that's too bad! I hope he says goodbye. Hey, we should have a barbeque."  
"Oh, no, the removalists said they'd gone on ahead already. We won't see them again."

Honker abandoned his breakfast and ignored his brother, went out the front door to the post box and watched the team of large men removing all and sundry from the house. The last trip, and then one of them hammered a for sale sign into the lawn.

Another looked down at Honker, before he pulled the "Mallard" label off the post box.

"Excuse me, sir, where have they gone?" The man just looked down at Honker.  
"Look, go run along and play, kid." He turned away. "What a bunch of nosy neighbours."

Honker adjusted his glasses. He looked back at the empty building as the truck drove off.

* * *

_Two Hours Later..._

"I'm sorry, Mr Duck." The Masked Mallard sat up on the bed. "No, you need to lie down!"

He glared at her, grabbing her collar. "Am I dying?"  
"Yes."  
"Then I have a couple things to do before that happens." He pushed her away. "And the name is Negaduck."  
"I thought you said your name ..."  
"I don't have the time." He said as he slammed the door shut.

The dying Duck breathed heavily, not getting enough oxygen. He coughed, spluttering onto the pavement to try and clear his lungs. He wiped his beak as he finally made it to the curb outside the hospital. "I recognise those uniforms. They were S.H.U.S.H." He stepped into the road and the oncoming car screeched to a halt in front of him. "I need a lift to Audubon Bay Bridge." He frowned at the horrified driver. "Please." He got into the passenger seat.

* * *

The Masked Mallard's mind drifted as he sat on the rat-catcher. S.H.U.S.H. had cleaned up the tower to the extent that Ammonia Pine would have been pleased. The bleach on the stone floor they'd used to get out the blood stains had made him cough even worse.  
"No, I need to ... focus." He fought to keep the motorcycle going in a straight line. "S.H.U.S.H. central." A few more blocks and he slowed the rat-catcher in front of the cursed building. He staggered to a stand coughing again. He fought back the wave of dizziness and dragged his painful way up the stairs.

"Security clearance, sir?"  
"I'm Darkwing Duck." He straightened glaring at the dog guarding the door.  
"Okay, go ahead, sir." The Duck clenched his beak, continuing into the building.

* * *

He threw the canister into the office. "I am the terror that hunts in the night." He coughed. "I am the fine print you didn't read before you signed the contract."

He faced Hooter.

"Darkwing Duck? Or is it Negaduck? That's what they said at the hospital when you escaped."

"Ha, that no-hope low-life?" He coughed again, wiping his beak. He raised the gas gun at Hooter. "He didn't have a reason to live like I did. He didn't have my spirit. I watched the real Negaduck in the ambulance. He was comatose."

* * *

"Guess what I've loaded the gas gun with, chief?"  
"I did what protocol required."  
"I already quit, now I'm firing you. No more innocents will die at your hands." He triggered the weapon.

The gun exploded, and the Duck erupted into flames, the carpet ignited beneath them. He grabbed Hooter's hand from the intercom switch and threw himself across the table at Hooter. They crashed through the window down to the pavement with a single scream as the sprinkler system erupted behind them.


	2. Public Relations

_A/N: Two votes said 'Please make this a proper story'. So here's how the real story starts._

_I don't own Darkwing Duck and this whole thing is AU, drawn on the basis of the 'S.H.U.S.H. turned bad' principle. _

___Chapter One: S.H.U.S.H. turned bad and took out Darkwing Duck. Basically in the first chapter, I outlined the destructive and far reaching power that law enforcement government departments have. _

_____The question that essentially arose from that chapter was: '_What happened to everybody after that?' Somewhat grim and this whole story stays pretty low key. But for you, my readership of two, I indulge you an answer.

_Chapter Two: In this particular chapter I argue a ludicrous concept that the 2010 comic by Ian Brill and co presented me with. I've sort of used it while also rejecting it. For those of you who missed the comic, harken ye back to the episode 'Let's Get Respectable'._

_A/N: For timeline integrity I started this story just after the events of "Love Forever After" and just before "Wisteria" would have happened had S.H.U.S.H. not been evil._

* * *

_Thank you, Blondie for _

_No Exit_

_There's no sin in this: getting dressed to kill, laughing down the sun like a jackal will. With his eyes ablaze and his lips apart he's gonna fill his cup with the love in your heart and drink it up til the morning starts._  
_Circulate the red light vistas. Get the girls and get their sisters. Pinch em up and give em blisters. Kiss em fierce with all his might, forever._

_Bye bye to another life. Bye bye to another life ..._

_Standing on the verge of the edge of the ledge, waiting for me to fall, but then I got a call._  
_It said "Wait, hold up homie! You must be trippin! You can't be putting that simpin and whimpin up in your pippin! You better stand tall, fool you was born to ball. Took a little fall and now you wanna end it all!_  
_You've been chasing dreams like a hound dog on the hunt. Take your place in the front. Put your hand on the pump. And it's right in your grasp, man. I know they're laughing, but you'll be laughing later cuz time's are gonna get greater. You's a player, and when I say player I mean player cuz your daddy and your uncle was a player._

_Who's gonna cry for ya? Who's gonna cry over you? ..._

_Put yourself in your position. You ain't wishin for no food and no warmth and no light, so you must be doing all right._  
_But wait a minute! Something's wrong. It's lunatic, it's mad, insane! Busted like a water main. Indulgence in another vein._  
_What they're saying round the neighborhood is what he's drinking's not aged in wood._  
_He's filling out. He's all growed up. He's all blowed up. He's gotten fat ..._  
_Sure enough at the midnight lounge there's a dent in the seat where the vampire sat._  
_Bye bye to another life. Bye bye to another life._  
_Living dead is doing time, like drowning on the circle line._

_Who's gonna cry for ya? Who's gonna cry over you? ..._

* * *

**Chapter Two: Public Relations**

* * *

...FOUR YEARS LATER...

"I have problem with wampires."  
"Vampires shmampires. Its panic what's not good for business. That's the part we need to get a handle on."

Steelbeak sat calmly in his high backed chair.  
"Is business all you think about?" Grizlykoff growled.  
"It's like I keep tellin' ya, commissioner. People understand business. And people cast the votes. And panicked people cast irrational votes." Steelbeak grinned, knowing that he had Grizlykoff over a barrel. "Let's deal with the panic first. I dunno maybe there's a vampire hunter out there we can hire? That'd be good for this city's morale. And good morale means good business. And that means we turn a better profit than what we've been doin' the last couple'a years." He showed Grizlykoff a number of down sloping graphs under the light of the table's lamp.

Grizlykoff rubbed both hands over his face and got control of himself before resigning to Steelbeak's view on the matter. "Yes sir. I will see to find this ... hunter." He stood up.  
"Nighty night, pal."

The bear closed the door behind him with a click.

* * *

"Funny." Steelbeak sighed, settling in to read his daily media reports. "There weren't no vampire attacks when Darkwing Duck was around."

He picked up the phone and dialled.  
"State Research Department," sang the electric voice on the other end.  
"Hiyah, babe-arella. How'ya doin'?" Steelbeak leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the table with a leisurely grin.  
"Well. As a matter of fact I'm in the middle of conducting an experiment to improve the nutritional value of blood by infusing it with electricity."  
"Will that sell, you reckon?"  
"If I'm successful, it will quite positively be a hit. I have reason to believe that not all vampires like to eat out all the time."  
"I love the sound'a that. It'll bring those guys back into the supermarkets. I can already hear the sound of the cash registers. Ka-ching!"  
"I thought you would like it, sir."

"Say, angel-pie, d'ya mind explaining these vampire statistics to me again?"  
"I was sure you could use your imagination, sir."  
"Well, okay, pretend I lost my imagination when I took off-ee-yikes!" He yelped and dove under the desk as he recognised what it was seeping in through the cracks of his French windows.

A dark vapour accumulated into a cloud in the centre of the gloomy lamplit room. The phone's receiver clattered to the floor with a beep as he trembled. "Get a grip." He told himself firmly and stood up, watching the cloud swirl about in the gloomy room.  
"I got security on the line. Now what are the odds?" Steelbeak lied boldly. "Think again, vamps, and just clear out."  
"Bring 'em in, Steely. I'm just dying for a proper fight." A dark male voice said, sounding somewhere between menace and moroseness.

Steelbeak sat down on his chair, "I take this as an opportunity for a deal. What do you want?"  
"A deal? I find it incredulous that one as corrupt as you could have gotten that seat legitimately."  
"Well, that point's moot because I have the office. Face it; I'm the lesser of two evils." Steelbeak leaned back in his chair. "Take the opportunity to think about this for just a moment. If you kill me, where will you be leaving St. Canard? If you actually cared about continuing your food supply, you'd know better than chow down on the only one keeping them from destroying themselves: me."

"That's a strange turnaround for you. What are you getting out of this?"  
"Sweetheart, I got everything." Steelbeak reported in his permanently uppity voice, "I got the stately address, I got the control, and I got the outfit. And I got it all without no fancy lies. No two step double cross like the way the old mayor used S.H.U.S.H. to work these good folk over." Steelbeak chortled. He leaned forwards on the table on his elbows. "Or maybe you want to go back to the tricks and lies, the ... Mind control they was doin? Manipulating votes, brainwashing innocent bystanders?"

The cloud was silent at him.  
"Didn't think so."  
Slowly the cloud disappeared, drifting out of the room.

Steelbeak frowned, his mind retaking the conversation. "Gee, now, why'd that voice sound so familiar?"

* * *

_A/N: Well, How'd I do? Do you want me to post more?_

_A/N: Also, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!_


	3. A Scarlet Study

_A/N: Spot the references to episodes in: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Futurama and Star Trek: The Original Series, Sherlock Holmes. _

_Also I reference: Matilda, written by the literary genius Roald Dahl. _

_A/N: Here is the next all important building block in the grim Phantom Duck saga. _

* * *

**A Scarlet Study**

* * *

It was a normal day for Honker at high school. He went to sit down in class in his usual chair and discovered someone had taken his seat.

"I-h-hello m-miss ..."  
The girl looked up from her textbook. The furrowed brow and look of intense concentration faded, a smile spread across her features. "Honker?"  
He sat down in the next chair and looked more closely at her. There was something about her that looked familiar. "Hello? Do I know you?"

A girl, obviously. Her shoulder length hair was bright red offset by a green satin headband. Her outfit consisted of a dress from out of a fairy tale made on green satin with a giant red bow at the back. Three petticoats puffed it out at the bottom. The dress was long, but because she was sitting, Honker could see she was wearing a set of sneakers. One sock was red to match her hair and one was green to match her dress.

"Uh, no." She blushed. "My name's Scarlet." She held out her hand for him to shake, but McGain came up and stepped between them.  
"That's my seat, worm."  
Honker took a breath, ready for another round with McGain.  
"I don't see you sitting in it, ant." Scarlet snapped at McGain. "Why don't you go gather some bread crumbs for the winter?"  
"Hey." McGain's face went red. "Are you saying I'm short?"  
"No, I'm saying you will be if you don't leave people alone." She lifted her hand and he suddenly rose a half foot off the floor.

He waved his arms wildly, trying to get control back.  
"I don't like it when innocent civilians go under attack. Good people die because people like you do the wrong thing."  
She let him drop onto the floor and he breathed in relief, his face ghost white.  
He hurried off.

She tsked. "You're fourteen. Haven't you learnt to stick up for yourself yet, Honk?"  
"You're a little too quick for me." Honker took his glasses off and cleaned them. He put them back on. He stared at her again. No, the picture didn't change once the fog had cleared. She really was beautiful.  
"Well, why not try to be a little quicker? Sometimes you have to grab for the important things in life before someone else takes them."  
He felt a tightening in his chest. "I ... um, okay ... um, I ..."

The teacher stepped into the classroom. "Good morning, class."  
"Good morning Mr. Faraday."  
"Now, today we have a new student. Her name's Scarlet Macawber."  
Honker felt his insides about to explode. "Scarlet,-would-you-like-to-go-to-the-school-dance-with-me?" He blurted out.

The class erupted into laughter. Honker felt his cheeks grow warm in embarrassment.

"Why, Honker Muddlefoot ...!" Scarlet said in a loud clear voice that reached up over the din, just enough to get everyone's attention. "I would be delighted."  
There was an audible gasp in the room and Honker felt his insides skipping with joy.

"Alright, kids." Faraday interrupted. "Let's all gossip about Honker's personal life later. In today's lesson we're going to explore the deep reaches of outer space." He picked up a remote and crossed to the door, switching off the lights. "By means of this handy DVD-Rom software. Incidentally, there will be a quiz later, so whoever's stayed awake and paid enough attention will know the answers and get a carob-chip gluten-free 97%-less-fat cookie to dispose of as they deem appropriate."

Scarlet giggled as he fiddled with the buttons on the remote in the dark. "I like this teacher. He makes me feel right at home."  
"Aha, here we go!" He pressed play and moved back to sit at his table.

* * *

"Hey, wait guys." Scarlet caught up with Honker and some of the group.

They stood in the school's front yard, watching the other children leave.  
"I was thinking about Thursday. I haven't been around St. Canard much yet. How does it sound if we went to the mall after school?"  
Honker and the others stared at her, "you mean staying out?"  
"Yeah."  
"Maybe, but we have to be home before it gets dark."

"Bummer, I thought my curfew was bad." Scarlet grimaced.  
"You ... you don't wanna be out after dark, Scarlet." Honker said nervously. "That's when people go missing. You'd better know that right now, it really isn't safe. No fooling. I mean, look at the school windows."

She looked over. All the windows had bars on them.  
"Teachers are on double duty, and that's during the day."  
"What's happening to the people?"  
The group stared at her. "Why do you want to actually know?" Guyru asked.  
Scarlet shrugged. "Doesn't anybody know?"

They all turned their heads to Honker.  
"Well, that is ..." Honker took a breath and putting aside his emotions, he recited from the coroner's words. "... 'Between the multitude of criminals on the streets outnumbering ...' um, civilians ... 'and the horde of vampires prowling for a feed, the rest is statistical probabilities'. Or that's how she explained it to us when ..." He struggled for his next words but they wouldn't come.

Everyone stood there in silence for a long moment.  
"Honker lost his dad last year." Guyru explained softly.  
"I sure am sorry, Honker." Scarlet said with a cry in her voice.

"Wait a minute ... did they actually tell you 'vampires'?" Scarlet raised an eyebrow at him.  
"No, she only mentioned vampires when she was explaining the statistics report."  
"But that's ridiculous; there's no such thing as vampires."  
"No way can you say that, Scarlet." Stenzil countered. "Not after what you did to McGain."  
"That was just a little magic. It's not as if I made him fly all the way out of the window or anything."

"Witches, vampires and who knows what else is out there."  
"Look, I think you're getting carried away here." Scarlet said authoritatively. "There are all sorts of explanations. People have been pretending to be vampires for centuries using things like methane gas pockets, multiple source lights, digital Photoshop. It's all just taken from a bag of conjurer's tricks."  
"A sceptical witch. Fancy that."  
"I'm multitalented." Scarlet smirked.

"Oh! Hey, you guys. Speaking of multitalented ..." She reached into her bag. "Does anyone want one of my dad's brownies? Uh, they've got a spicy kick, but they're really nice." She held the box out for them.  
"Your dad makes these brownies? Not your mum?" Guyru asked.  
"It's his thing." Scarlet said with a small smile.

"Come on, guys, we need to get home."

* * *

"Where do you live, Scarlet?" Honker asked as the last of the others turned off up the next street.

She shrugged. "Nowhere near here. I just thought I'd walk you home."  
They continued on. Then Honker stopped at the corner ontoAvian Drive.

"Gosalyn." He breathed.  
"Yeah, Honk." They stared at each other. "What gave it away?"  
He crossed his arms. "Maybe because we're best friends?"  
She grabbed him into a hug. "You have no idea how much I've missed you!"

* * *

Binkie paced the house apprehensively. She looked at the clock again. "Four thirty six! Where could that boy be?" She turned around again.

Tank was standing in her path this time. "Mum, the sun doesn't set till six twelve." He showed her the details in the newspaper. "He's probably just egg heading with his friends and forgotten the time."  
"Oh, you're probably right." Binkie sat down on the sofa, plumping up the pillows beside her. "At least you're a good boy, dear."

Tank crossed the room to the fireplace, staring at the family photos. "Yeah, mum." He said quietly. "I try to be good for you."

* * *

Honker twisted the doorknob, smiling back at Scarlet. "See you tomorrow, Scarlet-."  
"Honker Muddlefoot!" His mother's voice was tense and loud.  
"Uh, oh."

"Just where exactly have you been, young man?"  
"Mum, I was just ..."  
"And who is this?"  
"I'm Scarlet Macawber, Mrs. Muddlefoot. I'm very pleased to meet you." Scarlet curtseyed and in her long puffy dress. The effect on Honker's mum was an immediate win-over. "I'm really sorry. It's my fault. We lost track of time."

"It's not that anyone's blaming you, sweetheart," his mother said in a strained voice, "it's that Honker needs to tell me if he's going to be late and whether I need to drive over to pick him up."  
"I'm sorry, mum."  
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Mrs. Muddlefoot. I can get him home safely if it gets too late."

"You seem a tad young to have a license, little miss."  
"Oh, no." Scarlet smiled. "I'm a witch; I can make portals to get from one place to another." She raised her hand and there was a shimmering in the air beside her on the porch. Honker was relieved; his mum surely wouldn't miss that show. "So long as I have an idea of where I'm going, I can make a portal there. If there's something dangerous I can make a portal to take Honker straight back here."

His mum took a moment to digest this information. "Well, that's good to know. But I still need to know where you are, young man. I don't ever want to sit here worrying about you being alone out there again. Can you appreciate what you've done to your poor mother?"  
"Yes, mum." Honker felt weak as she gave him a quick hug.

"Now ... Miss Scarlet. You had best go straight home too. Your parents are probably equally as worried about you, young lady."  
"Um ... yeah. This portal takes me straight home. It's nice to meet you again, Mrs. Muddlefoot. Goodnight, Honker. See you back at school tomorrow." She walked through the shimmer and was gone.

"Come inside dear. Make sure the door is shut and locked properly. Come and help your brother and me with dinner."  
"Yes, mum."


	4. Replacements

_A/N: Like Hamlet and unlike XFiles, I now present my take on the issue that many of those time-travel episodes of Star Trek and Doctor Who consider._

* * *

_**Replacements**_

* * *

Someone stepped into the lobby of Hamil Corporation and addressed Lawrence's security guard at the desk. "I'm sorry sir; this place is closed."

Well, Lawrence presumed that's what happened, of course. He really only began listening to what was happening downstairs once he heard the sound of his name.

"I'm here to talk to Lawrence Eider."  
"And who is looking for him?"  
There was a pause, like the Duck was thinking for a long moment, looking for the right name for him. "I am Phantom Duck."

"Well, you're gonna have to wait." The guard would then have pointed to the reception chairs. Lawrence knew that, because whenever anyone came in to visit him that was where he always found them.

Lawrence got up from his desk. His weekly statistical population review for the Master would have to take a back seat for the moment.

* * *

'Darkwing Duck? No, not Darkwing Duck.'

Lawrence was confused as he approached the visitor in the lobby. Here was Darkwing Duck amazingly alive, but yet he wasn't the Darkwing Duck that Lawrence remembered.

Phantom Duck was staring at the waiting area furniture. The chairs were green and the carpet was what Lawrence would have thought the modern sort of striped brown. The colour scheme may not have been Lawrence's personal choice, but there was nothing unusual about it, surely? "Phantom Duck, is there something the matter?"

The visitor turned around. "Did someone else die in here?"

"Oh." Lawrence responded. Of course, Darkwing Duck was a super sleuth. Investigating vampires, he'd only naturally suspect the correct reason behind the furniture change.

But was he really Darkwing Duck? Here was an excellent opportunity to test the question, because Lawrence knew what response the real Darkwing Duck would give. Committing to the role, he shrugged and spoke in a normal voice. "It was nobody important and it didn't happen this week."

"Oh ... okay?" Phantom Duck frowned. He seemed uncertain as to whether or not this information should upset him.

Lawrence stood there for a moment in shock. No, not Darkwing Duck. But despite this, the vampire still wasn't sure. "Perhaps we should continue?" Lawrence led Phantom Duck to the lift with great misgivings.

On one hand the guy was genuinely confused and very indecisive about something that would have sent the caped hero of days gone past flying off the handle. On the other hand there was still something about this guy that said 'Darkwing Duck'.

After so many years without him around, Lawrence finally decided it didn't matter. The near resemblance to that tireless crime fighter was quite good enough. The doors to the lift opened.

They stepped inside. "Why are you vampires killing people? You didn't do it before."  
"That's because we had Darkwing Duck." Lawrence didn't particularly want to ram it down the poor guy's throat.

The whole of St. Canard knew that Darkwing Duck didn't just walk away from his job.

Everyone knew because it was Lawrence himself that had made sure to expose the people who did it. He was a born and bred cop; no one ever turned on their own. Even now the thought of S.H.U.S.H. made him seethe. Faced with the situation again, knowing everything that happened since, Lawrence would still have gone to the press.

Never mind all that; Lawrence's job right now was about dealing with the state of things as they stood in the lift. "There are too many criminals out there on the streets and the law enforcement we currently have is ... shall I say ... completely biased?"  
"The way I hear it, you attack the police as well."  
"I'm sorry; that's not my department." Lawrence said in what was hopefully an apologetic voice.

The doors opened and they stepped out. "Let me show you something." Lawrence took Phantom in through to the surveillance room. "This is St. Canard on the radar." He gestured to the dozens of monitor screens that his new recruits Joy and Liam were using to report from and take down the statistics.  
"You used to have your cameras just pointed on your building."  
"Well, we hot-wired yours. As luck provides, S.H.U.S.H. died before they had a chance to clean Darkwing Duck out on everything." Lawrence heard the sound of grim satisfaction in his own voice.

Lawrence glanced at the screens. There was crime happening on every single one at least once, if not several times a night.  
"We took a new stand two years ago. We believed that if the city's underworld realised there are vampires out here to get them, maybe they wouldn't be so eager to be criminals." He took a breath, watching the Duck's reaction but the revelation was lost on Phantom. 'Did you just hear me? I just said vampires are out in the open!'

"How's that working out?" Phantom Duck stared at the answer in front of him.

'Of course he's not rattled by that.' Lawrence sighed. 'He's not a vampire.' "It's improved a little bit. There are fewer citizens on the street up for mugging. I can't say it's lowered the number of criminals though."

"Honker says normal people have gone missing."  
"That's not my department."  
These words did have an emotional impact on the Duck. "I don't care if it's the Department of Lost Bunnies!" He gritted. "Tell me what you know about this!"  
"What do you expect?" Lawrence frowned at Phantom Duck. "There are always casualties in a war."  
"We're talking about citizens! Not criminals!" Phantom exclaimed. "You're supposed to be after criminals!"

"I am! Phantom …."Lawrence said in a calm voice. "I'm going to step out there tonight, just like you say. But I don't know if I'll see the night out. The criminals know vampires are real and they'll be ready for me." He petted Phantom Duck on the shoulder. "It's not an easy job. We lose people every night. We can't replace them with criminals. We have to go elsewhere for replacements. And that's not my department."

"Well, so who plays god and makes these decisions?" Phantom demanded.  
"I'm not taking you to them with you ready with a stake to take them out."  
Phantom growled. "Fine." He reached into his pockets and dumped the entire contents out on a pile of papers. "I just want to understand all this, that's all."

Lawrence watched him thoughtfully. "Do you remember the Fearsome Four?"  
"They were Five and are you actually asking me if I've forgotten?"

Phantom jerked. His eyes were on the screen behind Lawrence. "That citizen needs help! Are you gonna do something?"  
Lawrence turned around to the monitors. There was a gang of five jumping a civilian going home late. "I can't; all my guards are engaged elsewhere."  
"But you're here! You're not 'engaged'!"  
"I can't take that many on! They're armed and-."

Phantom stormed out, not interested in any further explanations.

"... They're looking to kill."


	5. Cogs and Wheels

_A/N: This song came out when I was going through my destructive phase. That part's not relevant, nor is the fact that I know it by heart because it's one of my older brother's favourites. _

_The thing about this song is that it's truly beautiful and it won't ever leave you._

_A/N: Oh; and it really is absolutely perfect for my Megavolt._

* * *

**_Thank you: Icehouse for _**

**_Electric Blue_**

_"I just freeze every time you see through me  
And it's all over you, electric blue.  
In too deep, standing here waiting  
As I'm breaking in two, electric blue.  
I can see, can see that it may be  
Just a vision of you, electric blue.  
On my knees, help me baby,  
tell me what can I do, electric blue."_

* * *

**Cogs and Wheels**

* * *

In the gloom cast by the moon and far away lamp posts, Phantom Duck reached the scene of the crime, but he was too late. The attackers were heading on up the road, laughing.

He knelt at the victim's side and checked his pulse. There was nothing. When he pulled his hand away, the duck saw a glistening wet come away with him, changing the black leather of his glove to brown. He flexed his tense fingers, feeling the keenness of his fury. He turned to shadow and followed after the culprits.

"You really shouldn't have done that, fellahs." He came up on the killers and swirled around them, making them shiver. "For: I am the curtain that falls on your very last act."  
"Yo, you wanna try to arrest us?" The murderers started laughing at him. "You ain't got no prayer, starchy. We gots an understanding with your friends down at the station."

"I am not a cop!" He growled menacingly. "It's you that doesn't have a prayer!"  
"He must be a vampire!"  
"Let's give him a run for his money." They pelted down the street.  
Phantom shadowed them.

* * *

The five criminals breathed heavily as they stopped outside an aircraft hanger on the city's limits.

"Allow me to introduce myself!" The masked mallard appeared out of the shadows. "I am the Tenor that Sings in the Night! I am-."

They ran inside. The last one turned to jeer at him before jumping into a helicopter after the others.

"The joke's on them." He spied a Light Plane, dove into the cockpit and started up the engine. He took the handle and the machine started backwards, crashing through the back of the hanger. "No, face forwards, darn it!" Mid air, he spun the small craft around and headed after the crooks. "Aha! Much better." He applauded himself. "I'm taking these criminals down."

* * *

The plane bucked and somersaulted in anorexic angles as slowly he gained on the helicopter.

One of the criminals waved his arms wildly about as Phantom Duck took another close pass at the helicopter. "Get outta here, you moron, you're gonna kill someone!"  
Phantom raised an eyebrow. "Obviously."  
The men started shooting at him as he came around at them again.

Fuel started leaking out of the wings of his aircraft. "A minor setback." He pushed the engine harder. He didn't have any more time to muck around. He stood up and cupped his hands to his beak, yelling at them from over the roar of the engine. "I am the guy that takes the game of 'chicken' to all new terrifying heights! I am Phantom Duck!"

The plane met up with the helicopter, and they exploded in a bright ball of flame.

* * *

In shadow, Phantom Duck drifted down to the ground as bits of wreckage rained down around him. He returned to duck shape and looked around at the carnage. "That's what y'call team work."

Something in the distance caught his eye.  
"Oh, how about that for luck?" He blinked up at something red and white stood tall and brazen in the distance. "That, if I am not much mistaken, is Megavolt's lighthouse." He stepped through the burnt smouldering litter, his eyes on his next target.

* * *

When police commissioner Grizlykoff asked you for a report, by golly, you made sure you did it properly. That had meant a lot of overtime for Lanley.

"Sir?" Lanley saluted.  
"Report, officer Lanley?"  
"We've found a couple, sir." Lanley said wearily and handed Grizlykoff the contact details across the commissioner's desk. "Three Vampire Slayers to be exact."

"And what have you discovered about them?"  
"Well," he shrugged, "this woman based out of Quack Quong is specialised in rehabilitation techniques. Word of mouth is that she has quite a bit of skill in vampire-psycho-therapy."

"That is not a very good match for our needs. We need exterminator, not therapist."  
"So there's this fresh chick from Europe. She has a bit more variety in the jobs she takes on. She's exterminated graveyards worth of zombies. She's travelled right across Europe cleaning out various zombie infestations."

"Bah, zombies are obvious. Vampires are devious."  
"Devious isn't a problem for her. The Venice police department say this Slayer picked out a vampire for them at last year's 'Carnevale'."  
"So she identify vampire and exterminate zombie. She is better than first one. What about the third one?"

"This guy's reputation stretches back nearly sixty years. He's specialised in eliminating vampire problems. He's based out of England but he'll travel for a price."  
"Well, he sounds better suited than the European Zombie Slayer. What's his name?"

"Professor Juan Ducker, sir."

"Good work, agent- I mean, officer Lanley."  
"Yes, sir." Lanley frowned at the commissioner's slip to days gone past. Obviously Lanley wasn't the only one tired. "I've got my rostered days off starting tomorrow."  
Grizlykoff looked up, blinking at him. "What is this you are saying, Lanley?"

Lanley bit back his emotional response. It was times like these that Lanley hated working with Grizlykoff. It was as if the guy was foreign to the concept of having a personal life.  
"I mean, I won't be in tomorrow, sir. And I'll be off home now if there's nothing further?"

"That is fine, thank you." Grizlykoff picked up the phone. "Dismissed."

* * *

Phantom Duck walked up the long stretch to the lighthouse, taking in the sea breeze. He knocked on the door.

Megavolt opened the door a crack and peered out. "Who're you?"  
"Phantom Duck." He replied. "I'm investi-"  
The rat slammed the door.

"I said: I'm investigating vampires!" Phantom Duck called out loudly at the shut door. "I'm told you may have information on why-!"  
The door flew open and Megavolt seized his beak. "Come on." He grizzled.

Megavolt ushered Phantom up the stairs. "You're loud and obnoxious. Why is that so familiar?"  
"Maybe because we used to ... uh, hang out together?"  
"Yeah? Prove it." Megavolt stepped out into the room and faced Phantom.  
"Your favourite song is 'Stairway to Heaven'. It was your grandfather's song."  
"Aha! Wrong! That's not my favourite song."

Phantom did a quick double take. The central room of the lighthouse had a proper lounge sitting complete with bookshelves, a full set of chairs and even a coffee table. Unlike Megavolt's housekeeping style that Phantom remembered from days gone past, the place was clean. Well, substantially clean. There were a few things out of place that gave it that 'lived in' feel.

" 'Electric Blue' is your other favourite song now." Phantom Duck watched Megavolt's reaction.  
The crazed genius narrowed his eyes in scepticism, "you just guessed that."  
"It's not my fault you've changed your song! I've been gone for years."  
"Okay, but I had another song too."  
"Oh, do you mean 'High Voltage'?"

"Hmm." Megavolt tapped his nose in deep thought. "What did you say your name was again?"

"Phantom Duck." The voice was crystal clear, feminine. "I've been expecting you."

Phantom looked around for her, a little puzzled how he'd missed her earlier. The woman stepped out of the shadows. She was a duck, and a very attractive one. Her brown hair was lush and long, and with the smile she had she could've given Tom Lockjaw a run for his money.

"Phantom Duck." Megavolt said, enthusiastically sparking as he took her hand. "This is my wife: Felicia Sputterssspark."  
"So this is your friend, Elmo."  
"I'm nobody's friend!" Phantom exclaimed, and then went quiet, listening to the echo of his own words in the room. He stared down at his black gloves hands, flexing his fingers. 'I'm nobody's friend.' "But somehow, I still care."

"Geez. You got some problems, Duck." Megavolt shook his head.

* * *

Phantom Duck looked back up at the brown haired duck. "Are you the one killing innocent civilians?"

"Unfortunately yes; it's my job." She stated simply.  
"It's inhumane!"  
"It's not my fault there's no Darkwing Duck!" She snarled.

"I didn't kill him. He was dead long before I got here. Without Darkwing Duck people die all over St. Canard. Every night people die, both vampires and Envys. All I do is my job." She sighed. "I hate it, but I do it because it needs doing."  
"I guess it's my job to stop people from dying then; both vampires and civilians."  
Her blue eyes lit up with a spark of electricity. "Well good. Maybe if you can do your new job well enough, you could put me out of mine." She turned away from him. "I look forward to it."

Phantom knelt down and picked up a large book half tucked under the coffee table. "Lose something?" He instantly recognized it. The cover had a squirrel on it.

Felicia grabbed the children's book from him, holding it against her protectively. She sniffed at him. "You're covered in ... death, soot and ... burnt gasoline? What in the world have you been doing?"  
"I've been fighting crime. Any way I know how." He answered stonily.  
"So apparently we have something else in common."  
"How do you figure that?"

"We both see past the body count and look at the big picture."  
He stepped back from her. "You should work harder on your insults." He moved back to the stairs.  
"Okay, I was just saying. Phantom?"  
He turned.

"Do you want to know why I have to look at the big picture?"  
"No." He hesitated. "Alright, why?"  
"Because I have to know that what I do actually means something. The small part I play to make a better future for everyone."

He frowned at her. "I'll have to think this one over before I can give you my opinion on it." He turned and headed down the stairs.

* * *

Officer Lanley moved across the station back to his section.

Rows of empty desks greeted him. The gloom cast by the one or two lights in the corridor made the workstations look eerily like skeletons. Everything was still and silent except for the buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lamp at his desk.

He pulled his top drawer open and picked up his weapon. He checked it had bullets in it before putting it in its holster at his hip. "Man, I hate working the graveyard shift." He turned off the lamp, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.  
"Really?"  
He spun around in shock at the dark female voice behind him.

She grabbed his hand before he could even reach for the gun. "I love it when they work late."


	6. A Field of Lycium

_A/N: Remember _The Return of the Archons_? Well, whether you do or not, there are no computer-operated Jedi-monks in Phantom Duck. They are buried in my psyche, however._

_A/N: 'Toy Utopia' is meant to be a new name._

_A/N: I could explain all the subtext, presuppositions and nuances that I've poured into our favourite plant companion but that would break the story flow, so you'll just have to guess at the moment and find out when Phantom and Quiverwing find out._

* * *

**A Field of Lycium**

* * *

Phantom Duck walked through a deserted shopping village, looking for signs of trouble. A familiar name written on a sign in a Mad Hatter Emporium shop front window caught his attention.

"Now selling ... Quackerjack's latest toy? I don't believe it! Impossible." He thought again. 'Amazing, I wonder how ...'

"Freeze!"

Phantom looked around him and saw two people in burglar outfits and four police officers. They were all coming towards him from his left and his right. He put his hands up in surrender. "What did I-?"  
"Fire!"

He jumped out of the way as the shots rang out. He tore off around the corner as one of the bullets snagged him.

* * *

'Police?' He breathed. 'I wasn't committing any crimes; I was looking in a window!'

He turned the corner again and skidded to a stop in the back alleyway. The back door to the large supermarket 'Fur, Feather's and All' was open and he ran inside, shutting the door. He found himself in the gardening section and dove in between the rows of competitively priced potted plants. Apparently they were having a two for one special on rhododendrons.

That information wasn't going to do Phantom much good, however, with a bullet hole in his shoulder. 'I could do with some tea tree.' He winced with the pain. Once again, it had been the so-called law-givers that had used him as target practice without probable cause. "These people are beyond help if the police are crooks. And I'd only just started thinking positively too." He muttered to himself, recalling Quackerjack's good fortune.

"Why are they after you?"

Phantom Duck blinked up. The owner of the familiar voice was tall, thin and green. "Bushroot?"  
Bushroot knelt beside him and contemplated his injury. "I don't have the proper equipment to help you in here; I'll need to get you home."  
Phantom Duck stood up. "Well, thanks but ..."

The police officers burst through the back door. "Right, we've gotcha, vampire. Put your hands up!"

* * *

A nearby Lucky bamboo plant sprouted out of its tiny decorative glass jar and grabbed their guns from them. "There must be some mistake, officers." Bushroot said loudly, stepping into the moonlight shining down through the skylight.

"Oh, uh, Mr. Bushroot. That ..." the lead cop pointed at Phantom, "is a menace to society. You don't know what he's capable of."  
"Perhaps you're right. But on the other hand, I assume you know what I am capable of." Bushroot crossed his vines across his chest. Phantom watched his pursuers' faces blanch, snatching nervous glances at Lucky. The bamboo was looming over them, holding their guns high up out of reach.

At this moment Phantom took a quick vote on whose company he was safer in: the mad plant scientist or the hell-bent cops. It was three to one in Bushroot's favour so he stayed put by the plant-duck's side.

As if his decision was an invitation, Bushroot twined his vines around Phantom, drawing him into full view of the rotten cops. "As it so happens, this is my date." To assert his statement, the plant-duck leaned in forwards and kissed Phantom on the beak. There was silence in the department store's gardening section as Bushroot turned his head back to the police officers. "Are there any further problems, gentlemen?"  
"Uh ... huh? Why uh, no, Mr. Bushroot."  
"I'm glad to hear it. Carry on then."

Lucky handed them back their guns and they hurried back out of the door.

* * *

"You took a big chance stepping between us." Phantom said appreciatively. "I've never known you to have that much guts. Thanks."

Bushroot let go of Phantom. He turned away, heaving a sigh as if the weight of the world was on his conscience. "Not really. That trick works on them every time without fail."  
"They're pretty gullible in that case." Phantom raised an eyebrow.  
Bushroot stared at him for a moment and then looked away. "Not really."

"Come on, I've got to get you cleaned up." Bushroot walked him out of the store. He locked the door, arming the security system and they headed back to his greenhouse.

"If I had a seedling for every time I've used that line ..." he commented as they walked through the misty night air, "why, I'd have a field full of Lycium Nycanthropus by now."

* * *

In a short while they were in the greenhouse, sitting on the dirt floor. Bushroot mixed some herbs together and dipped a cloth from his first aid kit. "You're not a vampire, but they thought you were one." He said, applying the cold compress on the wound.  
"That still doesn't give them the right to shoot me. I was just looking in a shop window."  
"You weren't doing anything suspicious?" Bushroot asked for confirmation.

"No, I was looking in a window. Quackerjack's toys are on sale at the Mad Hatter Emporium. That was news to me-."  
"I take it you've only just gotten back into town. It's not exactly Toy Utopia, but Mad Hatters sell. So then what happened?"  
"... The next thing I know is that they're ganging up on me."

Bushroot finished putting the dressings on the duck and regarded Phantom. "It's your clothes." He decided. "Why are you wearing a cape and gloves? And dressed all in black?"  
"I always wear a cape." Phantom frowned at him. "And I feel black."

"Well, yeah, Darkwing. I can see that's how you feel but-."  
"No!" Phantom interrupted. "I'm Phantom Duck."  
"You can't fool me." Bushroot interrupted him, "how's Gosalyn?"  
"I don't know anybody by that name." Phantom retorted, looking away.

Bushroot was fuming, "you don't want to trust me? Fine! But remember that I did just save your life."  
Phantom looked at him again. "Don't take it personally, Bushy. I don't trust anyone."  
Bushroot stared him fiercely in the eye. "Phantom, it's been years. Don't you think that it's about time you started trusting someone again?"

* * *

Phantom Duck stared back at Bushroot for a long moment. The plant-duck physically looked not a day older, but there was something in his eyes that told a very different story. "Are you a vampire sympathizer?" Phantom asked carefully.

Bushroot deflected the question. "I get a bit of use out of these." He busied himself, putting the first aid equipment back into the bag. "It doesn't surprise me that they thought you were a vampire. You're certainly not the first."  
"Let me put that away for you." Phantom took up the bag as Bushroot leaned back and relaxed. The mallard went into the kitchenette, putting the kit down in the cupboard.

Bushroot spoke to him from the other room. "It doesn't surprise me because you've got that dark looming thing going. It's worse than when you were Darkwing Duck. Right now you outdo Negaduck and he was pretty scary when he came at you with his chainsaw."  
"I lost someone I cared about a great deal to those people." Phantom explained as he gently opened the fridge. Several packets of blood were stowed in there, and he suspected they weren't destined for a drip line. He closed the door in a conclusive feeling.

"I've lost friends over the years to them too." Bushroot replied with a shake in his voice. "It's why I use the 'date' line whenever I can."

* * *

Phantom came back out of the kitchenette and looked down at Bushroot as he continued to talk.

"What they can't get into their heads is that just because someone happens to be a vampire, it doesn't mean they're a bad person." Tears filled Bushroot's eyes on those words.  
"Gee ... I-I'm ... I'm sorry, Bushy."  
Bushroot stared tearily at the ground in between them. "You're crazy, Phantom. Of all the things to say sorry for, it's something you didn't do."

"It was Darkwing Duck's job to stop you."  
"Yeah, well, now Phantom Duck has the job to stop those guys."  
"So ... you want me out there?" Phantom swallowed in disbelief. "You?"

"Yes." Bushroot looked up at him with sincerity in his eyes. I could be doing other important things with my evenings rather than hanging around at the department store! It's amazing how many people just get into a fight and forget to shift." Bushroot fixed his eyes on Phantom Duck. "Like you; why didn't you use your smoke cloud? That was very forgetful of you. You're lucky to be alive at all after tonight. I would've thought I could expect better of you."

"Shift!" Phantom repeated, cursing himself. "Brains Trust." He slapped his forehead. "I was too shocked to see burglars and crooks working side by side."  
"Well ... don't forget it again!" Bushroot snapped at him. "I might not be there to help you next time, and then I don't think I have to explain to you what'll happen next."  
"Duly noted." Phantom accepted the parental reprimand. "But I still don't get it. Why were they helping each other?"

"Isn't it obvious? Bushroot said in a more normal tone. "They're all criminals." He gestured with his hands as if to encompass the entire police force. "Most of them come from S.H.U.S.H. or F.O.W.L." He took a breath. "And you of all people know why S.H.U.S.H. went down." Bushroot shrugged.

The plant-duck stood up. "You should probably go home. Your daughter will be worrying about you."  
Phantom smiled at him. "Thanks for helping me." He headed towards the door.

Bushroot called out after him. "Next time, don't forget to shift!"


	7. A Particular Someone

_A/N: I can hear the klaxons calling!_

_A/N: ... Can you?_

* * *

**A Particular Someone**

* * *

Phantom got to the high-rise penthouse apartment and rang the doorbell.

"Aye, I'm coming!"

He'd expected the watery canine to answer but instead he heard the sound of a middle aged woman's voice.

She opened the door and something furry leapt out at Phantom, jumping on top of his head and over, scampering on down the corridor.

"Speck, get back here!" the woman hollered "or there'll be no dinner for you tonight, yeh ken!" Phantom watched the black and brown speckled cat peer its head around the corridor. After a momentary pause for consideration of this information it yawned, stretching its paws just within view and then turned around, flicking its tail along the wall before that too disappeared.

"That little upstart." The woman shook her head. "What can I do for you, me lad?"  
"Um ..." Phantom blinked at the red headed woman with the vibrant brogue. She was dressed as if she'd just come from watching the races, minus the hat. "I was looking for someone called Liquidator."  
"Nay, I doon't have anyone in my house by that name, lad." She patted his shoulder and then grasped it, digging her fingers into his feathers beneath his clothes. "Look at you; well built, aren't yah? You doon a bit of wrestlin' in your time, I can see that." Her eyes roved down his body, making him instinctively tense up.  
"Well, y-yes ... I do consider myself ... w-well ... I-I mean th-that is ... heh ..."  
"Why doon't yah come inside, 'ey? Aye, it's been years since I've had a decent chin wag with somebody new."  
"I-uh, no, thank you." He cleared his throat nervously, "I'd better be getting home to my wife." The duck hurried back up the corridor almost as fast as Speck had.

* * *

Phantom stepped into the lift and the doors closed behind him. The feeling of sheer relief filled him as the lift went down and stopped at the ground floor. "Geez, I thought I was just going to pay a nice quiet visit to a super villain." He muttered. "Why don't they put labels on things to warn people? I seriously could've gotten hurt up there."

He rubbed his head as he stepped out of the building. "I need a new lead." He looked up and saw a neon light flashing and bouncers on the footpath across the road.

"Bingo. This used to be his apartment so this probably used to be his bar, and someone may be still around who knows where he's gone." He stepped off the curb and dashed across the road before the next car passed.

* * *

The Duck stepped into the pub, gazing around at the clientele. After dark, weren't people supposed to be panicking?

"You're new."  
"I'm looking for someone."  
"Oh, they all say that." The barmaid grinned slyly at him.

Phantom stared at her, "what is with this town?" he muttered. Then louder to her: "I think you're mistaken, see, I'm looking for someone else. A particular someone."  
"Oh yeah?" She leaned in forwards conspiratorially, "Does this someone have a name, and does it happen to be 'Rosy'?"  
"He has a couple of names, neither of which are 'Rosy'." He replied with a straight face. "The last I heard of him, he was going by the name of Liquidator."

"Dude, that's low." She straightened, finally put off. "Our business here is totally viable. Nobody's coming in here to liquidate us any time soon."  
"I ... what?" He blinked at her in confusion. "No, that's his actual name. He's made of water; he used to be a bottled water salesman, his name's Bud Flood ..."  
"Bud Flood?"  
Phantom turned around to the person who repeated the name.

"Bud Flood!" Someone else chimed.  
"We're missing it!"  
Clientele suddenly crowded around the television sets in the area. The barmaid picked up the remote and changed the channels from the customary horse races to...

_"That's right! You're on 'Wheel or Deal'!"_

Phantom stared in disbelief at the screen up on the wall in front of him, watching the game show program. There was Liquidator, and he was having a very good time, whether he was chortling out a penalty or a prize. The Duck suspected that with this particular job the Liquidator would be in a far bigger penthouse apartment with not just a Jacuzzi but also a pool.

Phantom sank onto his elbows on the bar and sighed, staring at the different coloured beer taps in front of him.  
"You look outta luck, fellah." Someone commented, his back against the bar as the advertisements came on.  
"It isn't that." He said to the undersized pig. "I just thought he might have given me some answer to all this. I don't know. I guess I was expecting something a bit more ... unusual."

"I heard he used to be a criminal."  
"Really? But he's such a nice boy."  
Phantom Duck jerked in his seat and stared at the people around him. "He's a salesman; of course he comes across as nice!" He exclaimed loudly. He jumped down off his stool and abruptly stormed out of the pub. The door slammed open as he shoved at it.

* * *

Phantom Duck took two steps down the sidewalk, before a gang of police officers began to advance across the road to him.

"Freeze!"

"Not again!" Phantom glanced up the pathway as a group of criminals came charging towards him as well. "What is this? Do I have a tracking bug on me or do you all just crawl around like cockroaches all night as a normal thing?"

"Get the vampire!"  
"Sorry, not this time!" He bellowed at them, and shifted into shadow.

* * *

Phantom swept on down the street and out of harm's way. He paused in a quieter stretch and reformed into duck form. "Thank goodness for those Vespers," he breathed, "saved once again."

"Hey, guy." A dainty voice cooed in the night.  
Phantom turned towards her. "Miss, you shouldn't be out on the streets at night, it is absolutely not safe."

As she approached him he could see her blonde hair flowing softly to her shoulders and her clothes were of the naive peaches and cream sort. "In that case would you like to walk me home?" She moved in even closer to him. "Keep me safe away from all those cops and robbers?"  
"That would be best." He shook his head at her foolishness.

"You poor thing, you've gotten hurt."  
"I'm alright." He turned away from her but she snatched his arm and dragged him back with un-duck-like strength.  
The woman pushed him against the wall. "Aw, let me have a look." She said, her voice just as disarming as before.

A shiver ran through him as her fingers explored the bandages Bushroot had fixed to his shoulder. His feathers prickled where she touched him.

"You're a vampire."  
"Mm-hmmm." Her gaze dragged up from his injury to his eyes. "You'll let me take a little blood from you, won't you? Please? I promise I don't want to hurt you. Not like those nasty people wanted to." She traced her fingers lightly over the wound again.

His feathers were curling as she trailed her fingers up to his neck. A wrecking shiver overtook him. If it wasn't for her pinning him against the wall he could've fallen down from the sudden weakness in his knees. He opened his eyes as she leaned slowly in, and he watched her fangs slide out of their sheaths.

A twinge of pain came with the two sharp needle pricks in his neck and the sound of gulping followed. After a few swallows she pulled away. "Mmm." She looked up into his eyes. "Thank you."  
"How ..." He gazed, still completely helpless against her tender expression. "How could I resist you?"

"I didn't use any hypnosis on you." She disagreed in a plaintive tone as she set him free from the wall.  
"Sweetheart," he took her arm; "you're an angel."

He returned to work mode without missing a beat. "Now, which way's your home? I want to make sure you get there safely. Those cops and robbers are after vampires."

"That's why I'm wearing this dress." She gestured to her Sunday outfit. "I'm a lot more careful these days." She smiled at him.

"These days?" He repeated, thinking back along the conversations he'd had this night. "Now I think I know who you are."  
"You do?"  
"I even know where you live." He took her arm.


	8. Four By Four

_A/N: Title reference: "Five by five" is a line reused a few times by Faith in Joss Whedon's _Buffy _and _Angel _series. I never found it a particularly scary line ... until now._

_A/N: As I did in '_From This Angle_', you can read the scene without the _italics_ and get a whole different meaning. _

_A/N: __As I have done for countless years regardless of being right or wrong: (") is for speech and (') is for thoughts. __I **bold** written words - because I can!_

_A/N: __I do not particularly like the idea of posting any explanatory non-action scenes and avoid it as far as I can - in fact it's a cringing____ word battle_ on the subject when it happens. 

_So, if you don't 'get' the study scene here you still won't 'get' the aeroplane scene in 'Cogs and Wheels'. I will revisit the topic in 'Lavender Blue' and then later on in 'The City Red', so if this scene hasn't made it clear ... speak up or it may be over ten chapters further along before the 'd'oh' factor sets in and you 'see the light at the end of the tunnel' - as A L Webber would say._

* * *

Having dropped the vampire safely back at the greenhouse, Phantom Duck glided along the pathways and back to the dark and forbidding Macawber chateau. The gnomes didn't notice him pass by. He drifted on up to the porch and under the front door.

The short Mallard reformed in the hallway and walked into the main sitting room. "Did you have a good night, Morg sweetie?" He crossed his arms, gazing at his wife from the doorway. Her hair was still jet black save for the two grey streaks in the front. She wore a purple outfit with teal trimming.

Right now Morgana was curled up on the chair, reading a book. She looked up smiling at him, "it was good to catch up with Dazel and see how the restaurant was getting along. Did you find anything, Dark?"  
"Yes." He crossed the room and kissed her on the beak. "Quackerjack has found a market for his toys, Liquidator is in his element as host of his own TV show, Megavolt is married and Bushroot has finally re-grown a conscience. Steelbeak is running the city and Grizlykoff is out looking for a vampire slayer for his PR campaign."

"What about the vampires themselves? That's what you went out there to check on in the first place; Steelbeak and the vampires."  
"I still need to find out more on Steelbeak's policies. But on the face of it, the real problem is that there's no proper law enforcement on the streets ..." he yawned "... the whole lot of them. They all thought I was a vampire. Only the vampires could tell the difference, and Bushroot for some odd reason."  
Morgana smiled consolingly at him. "Well, I guess in a way, you are a little like a vampire. The lengths I went to, to put you back together again were nothing short of extreme, my love. You know that."

He looked down at his gloves, flexing his fingers within them. "Yes, I do know that."  
"Is anything the matter?"  
"No, everything's just perfect." He looked up, returning her smile. "I had a bullet scrape earlier, but that's fixed, I'm a little low on blood, but nothing drastic."  
"Maybe we should wait a night or two." She suggested. "That'll give us a chance to do some media research."  
"Yes, and I guess I'm not as young as I used to be." He pulled a face.  
"Oh, no, honey-whumpus; you're just a little out of practice. Also it was easy back then because things were more black and white."  
His eyes narrowed with a look of distaste. "I'm none too fond of white anymore. I'm having a shower" he mentioned abruptly as he twisted around and headed out of the room and up the stairs.

* * *

After his shower, Phantom settled into his study, sitting in the chair before the computer. The room wasn't much like his old tower. For one thing, the vast book collection inherited from his father was missing. There was a vacant red chaise near the fire, and right now that's where his attention rested.

_'Steelbeak's just making it work. Isn't that good? Get it? Good, that's your thing isn't it? Isn't it good enough for you, Darkwing?'_  
"I don't think people being mugged blind in the street every ten metres is good, Negaduck." He replied to the silent room.

_'It's called Status-Quo. And now here you are. You're gonna make a mess of everything again; just like you always do.'_  
"That's not what Launchpad says." Phantom interrupted the silence. "Right, Launchpad?" His voice filled with self-conscious worry.

_'Sure, I don't know why he's sayin' that, DW. Looks to me like these people need someone's help at least.'_  
_'Oh, push off,' snarked the reply,_ _'I have to have the worst luck having to be a co-figment with a do-good dweeb like you.'_  
"Will you stop name-calling?" Phantom roused unhappily. "That's not going to help me to decide the best thing to do!" He exclaimed.

"Dark?"

Phantom jumped and turned to see Morgana drift quietly into the room, She was now dressed in her loose satin pink sleeping slip and her shawl. She held a mug in her hands.  
"Yeah, Morg." He sighed. "I'm alright."

She handed him the mug. "Drink up, snookums, you'll feel better."  
"Thanks, sweetie." She left the room and Phantom took a sip, continuing to stare at the screen.

"If I could only see the reason for this, I could make a decision."  
_'D'oh, why? What reason do you need? You left and everything got shot to blazes. I mean what more proof do you need?'_  
"What about Hooter? He 'left' too."  
_'Nah, look what that jerk did to us. He was no good from the start.'_  
_'Gee, DW, maybe it was us?'_  
"I don't know, Launchpad." Phantom sighed. "Maybe it was just the absence of us."  
_'One can always think positively about this.'  
__'Oh, __great; __here we go again.'_

_'The __Fearsome aren't so fierce anymore.'  
_"I have to agree with you on that one." Phantom agreed.  
_'Yeah, they're a right bunch of milk fed pansies.'_

_'I disagree.'_

Phantom shivered and wrapped his hands around the mug. "Go away, Hooter!"  
_'I think they still have quite a deal of potential.'_  
Phantom took a larger gulp of the drink. "I told you before to leave me alone!"  
_'My boy ...'_  
"No!" Phantom jumped out of his chair. "I don't want you here! Get outta my head!"  
_'Gee, DW. You know that all's fair in life after war.'_  
"Hooter killed you for no good reason." Phantom sobbed. He drank down the rest of Morgana's drink and closed his eyes.

"I wish I could pick them." He sighed, opening his eyes again. Actually, while I'm wishing, 'not at all' would be a better wish." He sat the empty mug down and picked up his pen and notepad.

**CRIME**  
**Steelbeak**  
**Grizlykoff**  
**Bushroot**  
**Quackerjack**  
**Liquidator**  
**Megavolt**  
**Vampires**

"So, saying Negaduck's right." He ticked off Steelbeak and wrote 'ND' next to it for personal reference. "And Launchpad's right." He put a cross beside crime and wrote 'LP'. "And Hooter didn't actually disagree on the subject of the Fearsome Four per sec." He ticked all four of the Fearsome and wrote 'JGH' beside them.

He stared at the page. "That leaves the question on Grizlykoff the police commissioner unanswered." He frowned. "Since everyone else has changed a lot in five years he may have as well." He considered his list again. "What better way is there to get to the bottom of what's going on than to have a sensible talk with the guy in charge of stopping crime?" He drew a dotted line between Grizlykoff and crime.

"The other unanswered question is the vampire situation." He sat back in his chair for a moment. "LP's definitely right; less crime means less vampires on the street." He drew an arrow between crime and vampires. He frowned. The arrow's line overwrote the dotted line.  
_'That's not a good sign.'_  
"Oh, don't be superstitious, LP." He considered the page. "Now; have I missed anything off this analysis?"  
The room was silent back at him.  
"I guess not."

* * *

_A/N: For a cookie: did you notice who Phantom Duck has missed off his summary analysis of the situation that St. Canard is currently in?_

* * *

_A/N: "Brain and brain ... what is brain?" Tragedy needs any and all help no matter how minute it is. Please review or message me any advice, suggestions or questions._


	9. Meatloaf

**Meatloaf**

* * *

School was the most bizarre place. After spending the last four years being home schooled or taking bridging courses at the Witches Academy, the bright day and the green soccer field dazzled Scarlet.

"Anybody mention your clothes are whack, Sc-harlot?"  
Scarlet blinked over her lunch-box at the two girls. "What did you just call me, Katie?"  
"Where'd they dredge you from; the dark ages?" Sarah messed up her hair. "Finally let you out of your tower, Rapunzel?"  
Katie snatched Honker's sandwich and peered into Scarlet's lunch-box. "What are you eating, harlot? Ew, that's so gross. I think it's still moving."  
"And what are you eating?" Scarlet scoffed back at them. "Brain dematerializer?"  
"You're a geek and you come in mid term. You are so going to regret it."  
"No, I'm a witch and I come in on my own terms!" Scarlet raised her hand and zapped the lamppost behind them.  
"Missed, dweeb."  
"Oh, well, I guess I did." She smiled sweetly at them. "And every time you annoy me, why, I guess I'll just have to 'miss' you again."  
"You're lost, girl." They walked off shaking their heads and sat down at another table.  
Scarlet picked up the turkey sandwich from her lunchbox and bit into it. "Are you gonna eat yours, Honk?"  
He looked down into his lunch-box. He smiled broadly and picked up a meatloaf sandwich, biting quickly into it so he wouldn't chance losing out again.

Within moments, there were screams from across the table area.

The two fledgling terrorists came charging back, screeching at Scarlet.  
The teacher on duty came hurrying over.  
"That witch took my lunch!"  
"I want my lunch back, you freak!" Katie snarled at Honker.  
"Please, girls! You have food." The teacher frowned in confusion, looking into the lunch boxes they held in their hands. "If you don't like what your parents give you for lunch, girls, ask them to give you something else. Now please; stop harassing other students or I'll have to put you two into detention."

As their visitors departed Honker turned back to Scarlet. "I have missed you so-oo much!" Honker beamed at his old friend. "You live life on the edge and I'm so glad to have you back!"  
"The only way to live, huh?"  
He nodded enthusiastically through another mouthful of Katie's meatloaf sandwich.  
Scarlet grinned at him. "So, did you manage to get your mum to let you come with me to the mall tonight?"

He swallowed. "The task was somewhat simplified when my mother was confronted with the fact that you were able to create a portal and disappear from right in front of her."  
"Well, it'll be double safe tonight because Dad's taking the evening off from his investigation to come with us. He's even going to dress into something um ..." Scarlet shrugged. "Less night oriented."  
"He doesn't do the civilian thing very often?"  
Scarlet shook her head. "It's not exactly in his head-space anymore."  
"It's that bad, huh?"  
"Think your ordinary bad, Honk, and then multiply it by four."  
Honker scratched his head. "Uh ..."  
"You'll see for yourself, unfortunately." Scarlet sighed. "Coming back here maybe wasn't the best idea to go with."

* * *

A few hours later saw them walk from school into the city. They stopped at Hungry Hippo where they met up with Scarlet's father. The adult was dressed in a fawn coloured trench coat and a cream coloured scarf. On his head he wore a familiar fedora, only this one was completely black.  
"How are you, sir?" Honker managed to get the greeting out of his beak.  
"Honker Muddlefoot, isn't it? I'm Drake Macawber, Scarlet's father." The older mallard introduced himself under the name he was now going by. "I'd say you'll be as tall as your mother now, or else you will be soon." His dark eyes flittered over to Scarlet. "Scarlet's a lot bigger too now. You're both still too skinny though. You really should eat more." He got out his wallet.  
"No, thanks, dad!" Scarlet interrupted. "And Honker, you're fine with the one burger too, aren't you?"  
"Yeah, I really couldn't handle another one. Thank you, sir."  
"Oh. Okay." The adult turned to the assistant standing there. "I'll just have two double chee-."  
"Just the one, dad!" Scarlet stood up hurriedly and pushed in front of him, addressing the assistant at the counter. "He'll have one double cheese burger."  
"And a large fr-."  
"No fries!" Scarlet countered severely. "They're no good for you, dad."

"Scarlet, I don't do this very often!"  
"You can share some of my chips, dad." She patted his arm. He gave in and handed across the money. "Come, sit down with us, dad." Scarlet cooed at him and got him to sit down beside her and Honker.  
Honker watched them, silently wondering what that was all about. "Are you on a diet, sir?"  
"I'm always on a diet when my daughter's around." The adult grumbled. "I don't think it's very fair at all."  
"I've got to look after you, dad." Scarlet insisted as she picked up her packet of chips and shared it with him like a peace offering.

* * *

A short while later Scarlet wandered with Honker through the massive mall complex, wending their way through the little arcades that came off it. "How about all these people, huh?" She commented to him. The halls and shops were a buzz with activity and they walked into the leather jacket store. "Nightlife! Who'd'a thunk it?"

Honker blinked and looked around the new store they were in, realising Scarlet's father had been gone for some time now. "Uh, Scarlet, w-where's your dad gone?"  
"He'll be negotiating for peace, goodwill, long life and the best quality for the lowest price. Stop the press!" Scarlet stopped in her tracks, making Honker bump into her in the confined space between the tiers. Scarlet pointed out from the store. "Who's that woman Bushroot's got with him?"

Honker looked over the coat stands and out into the mall's thoroughfare. "Well," he pointed at the four green ducklings surrounding them, "I'd say she has something to do with them."  
Scarlet paused for a moment as she looked to see what he was talking about. "Oh, my gosh!" She quacked, "Honker; they're adorable!"  
"Hey, kids."  
Honker spun around in shock and looked down at the dark voice, his heart in his beak. "Gosh Mr. Malla- uh Mr. Macawber. I didn't even see you come in and I was looking straight at the doorway."  
"I've had many years of practice, young Mr. Muddlefoot" the mallard replied darkly.

"Hey, dad." Scarlet dug into her shopping bag and handed her father the box she'd bought from the music store. "I found this for you. To replace the one you lost years ago."  
"Aw, thanks, sweetie." He opened the long narrow box with excited fingers and pulled out the cloth sleeve. From the sleeve he pulled out the new shining silvery harmonica. "It's beautiful!" Tears filled his eyes and he grabbed her into a hug. "Thanks, hon." He blinked his watery eyes at the two of them, "have you guys been to the Mad Hatter Emporium outlet yet? I haven't seen which of Quackerjack's toys he's finally been able to sell. It's a mystery to me and I want to solve it. Wanna check it out with me?"  
"Sure dad!" Scarlet answered brightly and took Honker's hand. "Come on, Honk!"

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was so exciting I had to split into three!_


	10. The Mad Hatter

_A/N: I don't write screen plays for _Neighbours_. If you miss one of my chapters, I cannot guarantee that you'll ever know what the heck is going on. _

_Just to clear one thing up for you because it's been a while: The prologue of this story started straight after 'Love Forever After' and before 'FOWLED'. This is what would've happened if J Gander Hooter had gone along with the mayor's plan to trial mind control. (Which is what the phone call was about that interrupted Hooter's late night case file musings). This tangent universe started before Darkwing interfered with Steelbeak's experiments. _

_If Darkwing had been a vampire, young Honker wouldn't be feeling so insecure as he goes to see ..._

* * *

**The Mad Hatter**

* * *

The trio ventured down the mall and stepped through the door into the Mad Hatter Emporium. They were instantly in another world. On sale were magic tricks and poker chips, gift cards and joker decks. Halloween costumes and party favours, macabre or merely fanciful. The store was bigger than they expected and as they got to the third tier, they found in a large exclusive self labeled display cabinet were the Quackerjack branded toys.

"Huh." Scarlet read the labels. "They don't seem so dangerous now I'm grown up."  
"Mister History Buff doll." Honker pointed. "I never had a problem with him personally." He said. "I merely deferred to everyone else's opinion."

"That toy nearly killed me once, believe it or not." Drake informed Honker. "Now this one's my favourite." Drake pointed, taking a trip down memory lane. "Nobody touch the blow up clown, because he really blows up."  
Scarlet giggled. "I remember that thing nearly killed us once."  
"A few more close calls for me." The adult reminisced and continued to stare at the various toys with Scarlet and Honker. "I would say the one that would be a good buy would be the clown doll." He pointed to the happy smiling toy in the far corner.  
"Why, what does that one do, dad?" Scarlet asked nervously.

"Woohoo, do you really wanna know?" A voice with a lark in it rang out from nearby.

"Quackerjack!" Scarlet exclaimed as she and Honker turned to stare at the jester.  
"It has spring loaded cleavers." Drake answered Scarlet as if he hadn't just heard the voice of one of his old arch enemies. "It'd do a great job in the kitchen. Or the garden, perhaps?"  
"If you think it's so useful, why aren't you interested in actually purchasing it?" Quackerjack came and stood right beside them.  
"I beg your pardon?" Drake finally looked up at the jester. Honker frowned and glanced at Scarlet. She was still watching Quackerjack.  
"I can't improve my products if I don't listen to feedback from my customers or potential customers like you." Quackerjack explained. "You just said you like the toy, but you aren't going buy the toy ..." He frowned. "What's-up-with-that?" Quackerjack paused for a moment and he pulled out his familiar Mr. Banana Brain doll, looking for an answer. "Are you out of bucks, ducks?"  
"After just half a night of shopping?" The mallard glanced at Scarlet's bag. "Is there jewelry in there, hon?"  
"No, I haven't found an alchemy store yet, dad."  
"Then I don't think so, Quackerjack." Scarlet's father concluded. "But I really wanna know," the mallard's dark voice suddenly turned thickly menacing, "which person was it that died and made you sane?"  
"Nobody died. Sort of." Quackerjack shrugged, calmly putting his doll away.

"Sanity is a question of degrees, dad." Scarlet cooed quietly aside to her father. "He only looks sane to you; he actually isn't."  
" 'Nobody died sort of'?" Honker repeated loudly. "What's that mean exactly, sir?"  
"It's all a game of statistics!" Quackerjack announced. "My toys sell the most on Thursday nights. What does that tell you folks?"  
"That tells me vampires, which matches your 'nobody died sort of' statement since that what happens to people who become vampires." Scarlet's father mused sounding more like himself, "but then again perhaps I've watched too many of my daughter's TV shows?" He countered his earlier thought, sounding like someone else entirely.  
Quackerjack blinked at Drake, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well you guessed right. Hey, don't I know you?"  
"I don't see how." Drake answered in a hollow voice. "We've just moved here to St. Canard."

Quackerjack shrugged the feeling of familiarity off. "Anyway, it was a breakthrough for me! You see it so happens that vampires have sharp teeth." He pointed at his beak.  
"So I've been taught." Drake humoured Quackerjack.  
"And, like my clown doll, most of my toys are also sharp!" Quackerjack announced like it was a flash bulletin. "Coincidence? I think not!" His out of kilter laugh filled the otherwise solemn curiosities shop. "Vampires buy my toys but only if I put them on sale in a store that they like to come in." He grinned and gestured to the Emporium around them. "A shop like this!"  
Honker felt the feathers on the back of his neck prickle. He glanced around at the other occupants in the shop, now feeling a trifle more nervous than he had while merely conversing with an ex-criminal. At this point of time he realised he was completely unarmed and the ex-crime-fighter didn't fill him with any confidence of safety.  
"You ..." Scarlet's father hesitated, "you don't mind vampires, Quackerjack?"  
"I love vampires!" Quackerjack grinned. "They're my best customers."

Honker looked around the shop at his fellow browsers cast in dark shadows, remembering his father and how he'd died helpless, feeling into his pockets and knowing that he, Honker, was unarmed too. Of course, a conventional weapon would only arouse a vampire's attention anyway, but ... Honker looked into Quackerjack's cupboard again. There were plenty of weapons right near his fingertips. Surely there was one that would provide him with some security?

Quackerjack paused "I'm sure I know you from somewhere."

In silent triumph, Honker put his fingers to the toy cabinet's door and pressed the corner to release the magnetic catch. It squeaked as he opened it and he pulled out the Mr. History Buff doll. The door clicked as he closed it. Now he would not be defeated so easily!

"Honker?" Drake asked, looking up at him.  
Honker realised all three ducks were looking at him and he felt himself blush. "Er, it's for my brother's birthday, Mr. Macawber." Honker smiled guiltily back at them all. "I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation."  
Scarlet giggled. "Way to go, Honk." She approved of his choice. No doubt she was visualising Honker doing something malicious with the torture doll. "Good thinking."  
"That thing's dangerous!" Her father warned. No doubt he was visualising the exact same thing.

"Oh, yeah, that's funny, coming from you, dad!" Scarlet rounded on her father and began lecturing him. "Do you remember the time you decided to 'help out' Lillipula city with the rabbit master chef cook off?"  
"Anybody could've made that mistake!" The mallard whimpered.  
"Uh-uh. It wasn't just anyone, dad; it was you." She rolled her eyes. "It was horrible, Honk; I had to erase a hundred and ninety seven audience members' memories not to mention the stage crew and then I had to doctor the tapes of the show. It was just lucky for us it wasn't being broadcast live!" Scarlet looked at Honker. "I could really have used your help on that one, Honk. It took me all night to make the fake ending even half believable. Then mum and I spent the next few days-."  
"Okay! Scarlet! Honey, you've made your point!" Her father rubbed his face. "Please don't go on, I-."

* * *

There was a shout outside the shop which made the ex-crime-fighter stop speaking and instinctively bolt for the door. He ripped the door open and practically flew out of sight.

"D'oh, I was wondering how I knew him!" Quackerjack quacked as realisation hit him. "That's Darkwing Duck!"  
"Darkwing Duck's dead." Scarlet insisted. "You're seeing ghosts, Quackerjack."

Quackerjack blinked at Scarlet and Honker for a moment and then leapt for the door. He pulled it open and raced out into the mall almost half as fast as Phantom Duck.

Honker turned and calmly headed for the counter with his new toy. Between the doll's protective ability and the knowledge that Scarlet's dad still sprang to action on hearing a cry for help, Honker was feeling his world was once again a much safer place to live.

* * *

_A/N: "What's up with that?" _

_A/N:__ "What's up with that?"_ Is an extremely annoying line Quackerjack kept saying in a fanfic YouTube video I recently watched. He said it so many times it actually started being funny! _ "What's up with that?" _There's another line that they impressed on my brain and it's been going through my head for like the whole entire week. But I can't even tell you because I'm not inclined to use bad language while I'm posting under a T rating. 

___"What's up with that?" _

_You Tube (M rated for sure):_

_/watch?v=AGzEJKhOElk&list=FLOuLsLmnhvwldyKcIaSYiAA&index=20_


	11. What's Inside

**What's Inside**

* * *

Reginald Bushroot was all for retail therapy. He didn't get too much money from his job, but he managed to save a little each week and he wasn't working on Thursday nights so it was an opportunity to be out with his whole family.

He checked back on his children as he regularly did. Tarnia, Julie, Simon ... Harry? "Harry!" Reginald turned back to collect his springling. This time it was the hat stand outside the last store that had snagged Harry's attention. The adult plant-duck took his son's hand and turned around. A few metres away he saw a police officer raising his weapon, aiming at his wife. "Bella, look out!" Reginald yelled. "Run, kids!"  
The shot rang out as Bella was diving for the floor.

* * *

Reginald called out for the nearby plants in the display stands but wasn't quick enough as the officer fired another shot. There was a black blur and a spark and shatter as the bullet hit an overhead light.

Reginald looked on as the black clothed figure in a cape stood back up from barrelling the police officer to the ground. The cop got up after him but with a fast left hook from the Duck, the blue spun around and went down for the count.

The plant-duck coiled his vines around his wife and picked her up from the floor.  
'I'm alright.' He heard her mental voice in his head as he hugged her in relief.

* * *

"Anybody else?" Phantom Duck quacked loudly and Reginald turned his head back to consider Bella's rescuer properly. Just like the other night, the mallard was dressed completely in black. A black fedora was on his head and he swirled his cape, lording over the prone form of the police officer in a manner that made Bushroot nervous even though they were on the same side. "I said 'anyone else'?" The Duck repeated the invitation in a gruff voice both threatening and demanding.

"You pack of gutless hoodlums!" The Duck snarled at his audience. "You wanna go around attacking non-hostile citizens, whether they're vampire or witch or normal? Is there anyone else up for a little non-hostile killing? Why don't you come and get me first!" The black garbed duck growled menacingly. "I am the ghost of your victims seeking retribution from the grave! I am Phantom Duck!" He brandished his cape and in a whirl of fabric he was gone.

* * *

Once the mallard was safely gone, Quackerjack crossed the mall to his old friend. "Bushy, are you all alright?"

"I'm so hungry!" Belladonna pulled away from her husband's side and knelt down beside the unconscious cop.  
Bushroot picked up something the size of a bullet that was lying on the ground nearby. The plant-duck fisted it angrily. "They're made of w-wood!" He quacked at Quackerjack. "That ... that's just ..."

"Darkwing Duck stopped him. Your wife's fine."  
"He's n-not Darkwing Duck, Quackerjack." Bushroot shook his head.  
"That's exactly what that kid said to me a few minutes ago. But it has to be him, Bushy. Negaduck wouldn't save someone like that."

Bushroot paused, rubbing his head. "It's happening all over again, Quackers," he moaned, "I can feel it!"  
In a split second Quackerjack saw himself right back at the beginning fighting Whiffleboy's gross margins and panicked. He grabbed his friend's shoulders and shook him. "Don't-loose-it, Bushy!"  
"D-don't-you-go-telling-me-to-calm-down w-when my wife just got hit-with-this!" Bushroot snarled and shook his fist with the bullet at Quackerjack.  
"Okay, Bushy."

Quackerjack smiled in relief that Bushroot hadn't meant that they were going all the way back to the beginning. "If you wanna stay mad at those jerks and get even, I totally got that. Hey ..." Quackerjack grinned as an idea popped into his head. "You know we make a great team? Why don't we take out the police station together? It'll be just like old times!"  
"Thanks, Quackers!" His friend grabbed him into a startling hug.  
"Hey, no problems. What are buddies for?"

After a moment Bushroot settled down and stepped back from Quackerjack. "Bella." He turned and held out his vines for her. She got up from the police officer's side. Quackerjack marvelled how after everything that had just happened Belladonna now seemed so tranquil, drifting into her husband's embrace as peaceful as a clear night on the bay.

"And we've got more help now, too." Quackerjack remembered watching Phantom Duck completely level the cop in one punch. "It won't be as bad this time round, Bushy."  
Belladonna pulled away and began looking into the nearby shops. "Kids? Darlings? Come to mummy."

"Help?" Bushy glanced at Quackerjack before continuing to watch his wife collect their children. "W-what'd'ya mean, Quackers?"  
"Phantom Duck." Quackerjack stated. "He'll help anyone who needs it. And right now, you need help."  
"Bella got hit." Bushroot countered angrily. "And he was already here."  
"Not everyone are vampires with that spooky premonition thing, Bushy!" Quackerjack argued. "I'm not."  
"That's true. And I-I'm not a vampire either. Bella didn't even see it c-coming and she is a ... vampire." Bushroot considered.  
"Besides; any help is good help. Right?" Quackerjack demanded, crossing his arms.

"You're right, Quackers."

Quackerjack laughed, relaxing. "If we get Phantom Duck on our side we could be-." Quackerjack closed his beak and smiled pleasantly when Belladonna returned with her smallest child in her arms, the older three plantlings flocking around her.  
Julie reached her leafy hands up for her father and he promptly picked her up. "I may be wrong." Bushroot sighed, calming down as he held his child against him. "But if I find I am right, the first thing I want to do is to keep my children safe."

"... So let's start winding up our toy soldiers, Bushy."

"That-was-an-awesome-jump!" Harry blurted out as soon as Quackerjack had closed his beak. Harry was literally hopping in enthusiasm. "That Phantom Duck guy went shweeeooo-fwunk." He illustrated with his hands. "Did you see that, Simon? Huh?"  
"Yes, I did, Harry." Simon answered his brother. "It's certainly a move worth learning."  
Quackerjack giggled, "with a move like that, Simon, we'll have to start calling you The Green Blur."  
"No-oo!" Simon took Quackerjack's bait. "My-name's-Simon, un-cle Quack-er-jack!"  
"He's just teasing you, Simon." Julie announced.  
Quackerjack pouted at her. "You're a perennial spoilsport, Julie."  
"It's a tough job but somebody has to do it." She countered.  
Simon empathised. "Julie tells me off too, uncle Quackerjack." "Me too." Harry added. "But mostly it's Simon."

Simon nodded at Harry's words and then looked up at his father. "Daddy, what's a 'gutless hoodlum'?"  
"A hoodlum is a petty criminal, Simon." Bushy swallowed. "And gutless is someone who won't face a fight that's actually important because he's afraid he might lose."

"So then that's not a very nice thing to say, is it, daddy?" Julie asked from his arms.  
"No, Julie. It isn't very nice." Bushroot answered his daughter in a weak voice.  
"But it's a true thing to say!" Simon reasoned. "If they think it's important the hoodlums should've come out to fight him. Daddy would've done it." Simon took a breath. "That's how we got mummy back, remember?" The pre-school plant-duck beamed up at his father in total admiration.

"Well, what'd'ya know?" Quackerjack congratulated his timid friend. "You heard it from your own sapling: you have guts, buddy. You've gotta believe it now!"  
Quackerjack giggled as he saw his friend raise an eyebrow at him.

Bushroot looked back down as Simon hugged him. He reached a leafy hand down to pet his son. "Quackerjack, I've got to keep my family safe. How am I going to find that guy when I need him?"

Quackerjack tapped his beak in thought. "That kid that decided to buy my Mr. History Buff doll called him 'Mr. Macawber'."  
"As in Morgana Macawber?" Bushroot blinked at him. "The witch?"  
"It makes sense." Quackerjack reasoned. "They were talking about erasing memories and visiting alchemy stores." Quackerjack nodded. "Morgana must've taught it to their kid."  
"Well, I know Morgana used to live in that creepy travelling house." Bushroot smiled at Quackerjack. "If she still does it'll be easy to spot."

"Going to these people is a good option, but we might not have to use it." Belladonna offered. "I wasn't a specific target. He didn't see my reflection, that's all it was."  
"... Okay, my love. We'll wait and see."  
Quackerjack shook his head. Now the excitement was over he was just looking at his boringly married friend. "I'd better get back to selling my toys." He looked down at Simon and Harry. "I don't suppose your kids are interested in playing with some of my toys, Bushy?"  
"No, Quackers!" Bushroot rounded on him and then turned back to his children. "I'm sorry, kids; your uncle's toys are not allowed in the greenhouse. We don't want them hurting our friends."  
"Oh, okay, daddy." Harry frowned.  
"How could you be so surprised, Harry?" Simon shook his purple petalled head at his brother and then looked up at his father again. "Can we go visit the book-store before we go home, daddy?"

"Certainly, Simon." Bushroot glanced back at Quackerjack. "Say goodnight to uncle Quackerjack, kids."  
"Goodnight, uncle Quackerjack!" The children chimed and Quackerjack grinned back at them.

"Have fun, boys and girls." He laughed and headed back to the Mad Hatter Emporium.

* * *

_A/N: With my poetic license I've bestowed a 10 yard firing range (i.e. nine metres) upon my special issue firearm. _

_A/N: I have read that the Japanese modified some of their rifles so they could send wooden bullets across 50-60 yards (45 metres) which was useful to avoid friendly fire when they had their enemy surrounded. _

_A/N: In _Allo Allo_ the German guns weren't modified in such a manner so I'd say those bullets disintegrated before they got anywhere near their intended target. (Not that that matters to that particular storyline.)_

_A/N: Good job I'm a fictional killer. My body count is ... no, I could go into the details on this topic but I'll just say it's _astronomical_ and leave it at that._


	12. Puzzle Pieces

**Puzzle Pieces**

* * *

Deputy Commissioner Terri Smith walked out of the lifts and headed down the mall with a sick feeling in her stomach. She ducked her head under the yellow tape and cast her eyes around the vicinity of the crime scene. It never sat well in her stomach when one of her officers fell.

She turned and advanced on the small group of officers conferring away from the forensics team. Three ducks of different sizes looked to her. "Report."  
"It were a vampire bite, chief. Sir."  
"You were Polo's partner, Roeland." She stated, looking up to the sizeable duck. "Where were you while all of this was happening?"  
"I was ... off gettin' us food." He mumbled.  
She noted the portly state of the officer. "So you don't know how this happened?"  
"I hurried back quick enough to find out who were aroun', sir." He gritted angrily. "It were Bushmonster an' Brideula. An' there was this 'ere vampire guy larkin' about all full'o' himself an' all. Ya can bet he's the guy what took Polo down. Ya should'a heard dis guy, chief. He was crowing like he was alladat. What'sit? Er ... 'I'm the poltergeist ya brought on yerself' or some such rot. He had a cape and a big floppy hat, he did. Weren't a stitch o' colour on him; he was all in black like he were fresh from his own funeral."  
"You'll need to book yourself in with the sketch cartoonists when you get back to the station." Terri nodded to him.  
"Gee wizz, chief, my shift's near over. I was wannin' to go to bed." He whined.  
"Don't you agree that the death of your comrade should take higher priority?"  
"Er, yes, sir."

"Meanwhile, I will have to put you on report for this incident, Roeland."  
Roeland's feathery features flushed in an incredulous fury. "Look 'ere, chief; it ain't my fault Polo was stupid enough to take a potshot at Brideula! Gimme a break. I've already had the forensic guys chew me out. Sir."  
"Officer Roeland!" Terri reprimanded him. "The point is that if you had been by his side where you were supposed to be ..."

"Polo still'd done it! I reckon we should be countin' our lucky stars that the goon missed rather than goin' aroun', pickin' on people who knew what were good fer 'em by stayin' outta the mess he made fer himself!"

Terri blinked at him and pulled out her notebook and pen. "I'm sorry; I didn't quite catch that, officer Roeland. Did you say you ... didn't ... want your paycheck for the next two months?"  
Roeland blushed. "No, sir, I meant yes, sir, I'll consider myself under report, sir."  
"Much better."

Terri turned back to the crime scene. Somehow, this black garbed vampire could be in cahoots with Reginald Bushroot. On the other hand, he might have just been protecting Belladonna Bushroot in an act of community service for another vampire. The thing Terri needed to discover was the intention behind this 'poltergeist' posturing actor. Terri approached the head of forensics as he closed up his toolkit.

"He is properly dead, Eddyson?"  
"Oh most definitely, Deputy. Drained dry courtesy of a standard set of vampire fangs. On a side topic, two bullets have recently been fired from his gun. May I ask what you'll do with Roeland?"  
"No, you may not!" Terri responded curtly, then she sighed. "Just to confirm; there is only one set of bite marks?"  
"Yes."  
"So ... Which vampire was it that bit him?" She turned from Eddyson and headed back to Roeland. Had he seen which one it had been? Odds were the chicken-liver duck had seen everything from his hiding place.

* * *

"Deputy, report?"

Terri twisted on her heel on hearing the commissioner's thickly accented voice and headed over to him. He stood there before the line of yellow tape with a stranger in a tweed outfit. The newcomer was quite old. His facial feathers were crinkled and untidily kept, making him look as though he were permanently angry.

"We've got ourselves a new hostile vampire, sir." She reported to Grizlykoff, glancing back at Roeland. "Apparently he likes to crow."

"That's quite unusual for a demonic vampire, but not unheard of." The elder duck's voice cracked as he spoke.

Terri frowned. She had an instinctive concern about the nature of this new person, but that went for most of her officers so she just added him to the list. "...Are you some kind of expert on the subject?"

"Deputy, this is Juan Ducker, Vampire Slayer. He'll be heading this investigation from here on."  
"I ... beg your pardon, commissioner?" Terri's jaw dropped. "B-but this is my mission-er, my investigation, sir! My command ... What ... I've-been-doing-the-best-job-I-can! It's not as if-."  
"You are relieved, Deputy Terri Smith."  
Terri snapped her mouth shut to stop herself from babbling.

"Then I am relieved, sir." She replied, blinking in shock. "Let's just see your new boy try to keep a lid on this!" She heard the growl in her voice. "And when it all goes pear shaped don't forget my pay rise, police commissioner Grizlykoff, or else you certainly won't see me back in my office." She finished her ultimatum in a stilted voice and ducked under the yellow tape.

A miserable Terri walked back up the mall to the lifts that would take her underground to her car.

* * *

Terri crossed the mostly empty concrete underground car park, fumbling amidst the bunch of junk in her bag for the car key.

"You won't need that, Deputy Terri Smith."

Terri turned around, looking for the owner of the dark female voice. "Who's there?" She drew out her firearm and held it close to her side.

"You won't need that, either."

"I'm hearing a dark menacing voice in a ghostly car park. Forgive me if I don't take your word."  
"I never gave you my word; I merely said your gun won't be of any use to you. You see; I'll have you before you can even sit down in the driver's seat."  
Terri swallowed. "So you're a vampire?"  
"Yes."  
"What d'you want with me; a light snack?" Terri quipped at her diminished height and AAA size waistline in the face of doom.

"Do you want to continue to do your job, Terri?"  
"Come on, now, what sort of a question is that?" Terri looked around. She still had nowhere to aim.

"Why are you investigating vampires?"

"For your information I'm not anymore; I just got booted off the case in favour of some crusty foreigner in a tatty tweed suit." She recounted bitterly. "Old Grizzlepuff's got another thing coming if he thinks he'll see me in on Monday. This job seems to go from bad to worse every day. I'm sick of the lack of respect I'm given."  
"I don't take you for granted, Terri Smith. As a matter of fact I think you're very important."

"Talking about important people, it's you vampires' fault that I lost another officer tonight."  
"I nearly lost Belladonna Bushroot tonight. As I recall, she supposedly has your state protection. If your officer hadn't shot her she wouldn't have had to kill him. The situation is now equal again."  
"So Belladonna was the one that killed Polo?"  
"That's what usually happens when a gun goes off, Terri. A wooden bullet can still do damage to a vampire. It does not need to strike the heart."

Terri's mind fritzed for a moment. "A ... w-what? Wooden bullet? You're lying."  
"Oh, I have no need for lies, Terri. Are you saying that your gun isn't loaded with wooden bullets like Polo's was?"

"I didn't even get the brief." Terri sobbed, realising only Grizlykoff could've authorised this, meaning he'd sidestepped her. Meaning he had disregarded and undermined her authority. Meaning she couldn't trust him anymore either. "Forget the stupid pay rise." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I quit."

"I will help you, Terri."

"Really, vampire?" Terri growled, blinking back unshed tears. "The way I see it, you're a part of the problem."  
"I am the master. I am interested only in solutions."  
"Oh! I'm sure you are!" Terri exclaimed contemptuously. "Crowing all lord and high; you think you're really something, don't you?"

"Put down your weapon, Terri."  
Terri flinched at the order. "So you can get me?"  
"The outcome is inevitable either way. I will have you."

Terri looked around at the silent, nearly-empty car park. If someone did come in here, what use would they be? She put her weapon on top of her car. "Now what?"

Terri felt a presence behind her and she grabbed her gun.  
Fierce fingers snatched her hand away. "I love the taste of a fighter." The vampire stated behind her ear.  
"Oh, so happy to accommodate!" Terri yipped. Her heart was pounding and the vampire surrounded her, holding her so completely that she couldn't even squirm.

"You will make an excellent vampire, Terri."  
Terri gasped as the needle-sharp teeth jabbed into her and the vampire drank.

Her mind grew fuzzy as Terri felt her strength quickly fading from her. She fixed her blurring sight on the fire hose reel attached to the side of the cement pillar in front of her.

'I did ... my duty.'

The sounds of quiet swallowing continued and the car park faded into blackness.

* * *

_A/N: You can always tell when I've been recently re-listening to Leonard Nimoy's audio reading on Ray Bradbury's _House of Usher II_. And the _Doctor Who_reference_ needs no introduction, of course. Oh, don't forget police detective stories from TV and novels from the dawn of Sherlock Holmes_. Brilliant._


	13. Intermission

INTERMISSION

* * *

After Scarlet quietly took Honker home through a portal, Phantom Duck was left to his own devices for the rest of the night. He escaped the confines of the walls and headed out into the lamp-lit streets. A moment later he spotted two hoodlums tailing a short gander walking home from the mall. Phantom Duck approached them in quiet shadow.

The first one seized the man by the collar. "Man, that new Quartz watch is a right piece."

"Yeah. Hand it over. And yeh wallet too."

"I am the Tenor that sings in the night." Phantom Duck interrupted.

The two muggers looked around and their would-be victim got free and raced off.

"I am the double edged blade that slices through the air." The shadows swirled around them.

They looked around, looking for somewhere to fire their guns.

"I am Phantom Duck."

"D'oh, where is he?"

"Right here." Phantom landed the first fist and knocked the gun from out of the other's hand. He grabbed their collars and hoisted them towards a nearby streetlamp.

"Whoa, hold on up there!" A voice came from behind.

"He's the guy from the mall. Run!" The two crooks took this opportunity and took off up the street.

Phantom Duck stumbled out of the motion of pursuing them and spun around. "Officers?"  
A group of four police officers came up. "What's going on here?"  
"Those muggers were just attacking an innocent civilian. And, you guys seem oblivious to the fact that ... they're getting away!"  
"I don't see no civilian." One said, peering at him with a frown on his face. "But I do see a vampire."  
"No, actually." Phantom Duck decided to get the record straight with them. "I'm not-"

"Fire!"

Phantom swished his cape and turned to vapour again, escaping from the flying bullets. All that work and nothing came of it.

* * *

"I am the tenor that sings in the night." Phantom Duck said to himself as he put some distance between he and the unfriendly police officers, following the direction that his crooks had fled. "But singing just doesn't seem to be working here." Phantom stared along the empty streets. "Flapping sure wouldn't work either with the way things are here." He turned corporeal and stepped along the sidewalk. "I've got to pin these thugs down or I won't be any competition for those vampires!" He clenched his beak. "So the police want a vampire. I guess I'll just have to give them a vampire."

He found the thugs and quietly pressed up against the wall a few doors up to watch them. They were currently forcing the door of a random large high rise building; either they were still trying to escape him or they'd decided to rob the building. Phantom Duck stepped away from the wall and felt the whistle of bullets sailing past him from the sneaking cops. 'Oops!' He dashed around the corner and hid beside a dumpster.

He caught his breath. 'I am out of shape!' He moaned to himself. 'This is your fault, Launchpad! I have got to give up those brownies! My metabolism just isn't the same as yours.' He listened to the gang of law enforcers coming closer towards the dumpster. 'One, two ...' He gave a flying kick and the dumpster crashed into them, tipping over and spewing its contents all over the street. He stepped clear of the sprawl of rubbish and bags.

"Hey-!"

Phantom Duck web-kicked the officer, slamming him back into the wall. Satisfied there was no more movement in the alley he headed back to the building with the broken door; the muggers had long since disappeared inside.

* * *

Phantom followed the trail into the high-rise building.

He walked through the empty foyer but the clues stopped at the lift. "Which floor?" He pressed the button and waited for it to come down. "Can you believe this?" He crossed his arms, waiting impatiently. "Sure; patience is a virtue, Hooter ... But it ain't one of mine!" The masked mallard gritted. "... Sure, Launchpad, I'll beat 'em, don't you worry. Heh, I'll beat 'em, alright ..." The duck watched the doors finally slide open. "Who'd have figured doing the world a favour would be so satisfying? ... Avoid killing? Oh quit harpin', Darkwing, you're the one who wanted to stop 'em in the first place."

Phantom stepped into the lift and considered the buttons. "Hmm, let's see; this is a random building to them, so they'd pick a random floor ..." He read the level labels. "The studio levels sound the most interesting. One or two first?" He pressed the first one and waited.

* * *

Room by room, Phantom slipped under the door in shadow and announced his call line. Realising it was empty he slipped back out and into the next room.

He soon discovered that the whole floor was a graveyard and he found himself in the lift again. "Studio level two." He pressed the button and waited. "I can't figure why these lifts are so darn slow."

Phantom stepped out and looked down the corridor. Astroturf sogged and squished under his feet as he walked along the corridor towards the first room. He turned to shadow and slipped under the door.

"I am the Tenor that sings in the night?"

The room didn't quite feel empty this time. Hopeful that he'd found his two thugs, Phantom Duck reformed out of shadow and advanced across the dark room. He stepped up onto the gloomy stage and looked down at the untidy mound there. 'Yep, that's them alright.' He nudged one with his foot. 'Dead. Apparently I wasn't the first to find them ...' He paused. '... Alright, I'm sure I didn't do it.' He reassured himself. '... I know I said I was gonna but ... No, I didn't do it! I just found them like that. Wasn't me; not today.'

"So you're a singer?" A familiar pleasant voice gurgled from nearby in the darkness. "You must be here to audition for my syndication show!"

As to where the voice was coming from, Phantom thought it was behind him and turned. "Liqui-?" A solid wall of water rose up from the floor and hit him front on.

Everything went black.


	14. Wheel Or Deal

_A/N: I CANNOT tell precisely where this character background concept gauges on the W_**_eir_**_d-o-m_**_ete_**_R but it's gotta be pretty high. There is, of course, a perfectly rational explanation which I've hopefully hinted sufficiently at in the text._

_Remember this story is _Phantom Duck_. Yes, the one where St. Canard is a dystopia 4 years on because S.H.U.S.H. was imperfect and Darkwing Duck kills Director Hooter after Grizlykoff killed Negaduck, Launchpad and Darkwing Duck under orders from Director Hooter. Grizlykoff now works for Steelbeak and the streets are covered in crooks and crooked cops. Vampires have 'come out' and are up to something, the Fearsome Leftovers all have jobs and have been trying to play straight with varying success. _

_Yep, and when I put it like that, this chapter fits right in._

**_So happy Valentines Day. Enjoy! _**

_Or be disturbed; whatever suits you. Perhaps enjoy being disturbed? __Mwahahaha._

* * *

**Wheel or Deal**

* * *

"Hmm, so this must be the infamous Phantom Duck."

Liquidator hoisted his third contender for the night up on top of his game show wheel and promptly delved through his vest pockets. "So the masked mallard has a wallet ..." Liquidator opened it up and found less than ten dollars in change. There wasn't a single card in there, credit or otherwise. "... The secret identity remains undiscovered ..." Liquidator rolled his watery eyes as he put the wallet back and tried another pocket. He pulled out a velvet sleeve and discovered a harmonica. "I get paid more for an hour of my time than a pawnbroker would for that toy." A disgruntled Liquidator tucked it back in the mallard's pocket.  
"Hmm ... not so much as a Swiss army knife. But wait ... What's this?" He pulled out a notepad and opened the cover to read the first page. "Why is my name ticked? What could JGH mean?" He shrugged and memorised the writing before the little book disintegrated into a wad of unintelligible mush in his watery fingers.

"Darkwing Duck was a detective and therefore having a detective's notebook would suggest that this is Darkwing Duck, not Negaduck. But wait there's more! Only one of these ducks was in that fire at S.H.U.S.H. headquarters." Liquidator pulled off one of the mallard's black gloves to check his theory.

On Phantom Duck's hand every feather was in perfect alignment with the others. There was no sign of scarring that would have happened from that fire.  
"Then this can only be Negaduck? But why would Negaduck take notes ...?" Liquidator groaned, realising that this mallard's perfectly manicured feathers weren't enough to give him any confidence one way or another. Actually, now that he came to think about it, Liquidator recalled Negaduck liked to preen his feathers backwards. This mallard had his facial feathers all tidily slicked back. "My head is spinning-like a whirlpool." Liquidator searched his brain for that stroke of genius that would crack this case. " ... Eureka, I've got it!"

Liquidator plucked a feather from the unconscious mallard's head. "When in doubt; consult a professional!"

* * *

Doctor Sara Bellum was busy in her office with a set of electrodes, a battery generator and a small metal test tube. There was a pop and a spark. A wisp of smoke went coiling up to the roof. "Alright; alright! Next time I'll try using a teensy bit less-." She looked up at the knock on the door. "Oh, fiddle. That door always knocks while I'm in the middle of something ..." She giggled as she walked to the door, 'actually, the truth is that I'm always busy with something, so the fact that I always have visitors while I'm in the middle of something is hardly much of a surprise!'

Sara unlocked the door and saw Liquidator standing there in his customary trench coat and hat. "Hello, Mr. Flood. How nice of you to drop by. How are you today?"  
"Greetings, Doctor Bellum, I am well, and how are you this fine evening?" The water dog recited cordially back to her.  
"Well-actually I've been rather busy with my experiments and haven't quite gotten around to eating today."  
Liquidator tsked. "I have a feather for you. It's from Phantom Duck." He handed her a plastic envelope.  
"Phantom Duck!" Sara squawked in excitement. "Oh! What a thoughtful gift! How lovely ..." Sara opened the pouch eagerly and looked inside it. "Oh ..." She frowned. "It didn't transport very well, as it would seem."  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"It looks more like a dust bunny than a duck feather now, Bud." She held the envelope open so he could see the contents. "Actually to be fair what we are looking at isn't just dust. These particular dust particles are gorged-into-dormancy, host-DNA-preserving Vespers."  
"Is it of no value, Sara?" Liquidator asked, wanting to get to the point of her words.  
"Certainly not." Sara smiled at the watery dog, standing in his brown trench coat and hat in her doorway. "This dust can tell me who it belongs, or in the case of such a small amount perhaps the better word would be who it 'belonged' to."

"... Vampire dust." Liquidator growled in displeasure. "The Phantom of St. Canard is a vampire."  
"Why, what's the matter with him being a vampire, Bud?" Sara asked in surprise.  
"I will be in ill-favour for finishing off his petty criminals."  
"Don't fret; he'll calm down once he finds something else to eat." Sara consoled the slippery canine. "So what did you do with these petty criminals?"  
Liquidator frowned gravely at Sara. "The blue plate special."

Sara Bellum widened her stance as she faced Liquidator in her doorway. "Humfph! I must say you're not the most considerate of villains, ex or otherwise." She huffed at him, holding up the envelope and waving it at him. "You seem to forget that a favour begets a favour."  
"I may be wet but not behind my ears." Liquidator swished audibly as he opened up his trench coat to reveal a sizeable esky floating in the middle of him. He held it out to her.  
Sara's spirits lifted. "Oh, thank you, Bud. And I'll have the DNA results tomorr-."

The phone rang.

"Oh, drat!" Sara cursed as she crossed over to the phone cradle, dropping the envelope beside it. "Mayor Steelbeak seems to think I'm his own personal help desk." She reached for the phone but Liquidator grabbed her arm.  
"Remember: location-location-location."  
Sara paused as the phone continued to ring, "oh Bud, I've told you I'm-."  
"Hungry, are you not?" Liquidator interrupted. "You told me you haven't had a bite to eat all evening."

Sara observed Liquidator remove a thermos from the esky and present it to her.  
"Oh, yes, I am hungry ... as a matter of fact." Sara took the offering and drank down the contents of the thermos. Liquid with a warm, salty iron taste in her beak and down her throat. The pain shortly disappeared from her stomach and then the thermos was suddenly empty.  
"Oh, that's so much better, Bud; thank you." She sighed in relief.

"Now, um," she looked up at Liquidator. "Uh ... Where were we?"  
"Well ..." He gently took the empty thermos from her fingers with a smile. "You were lonesome tonight."  
Sara blinked. "Was I really?" She eyed him sceptically.  
Liquidator put the thermos on the table. "Hungry like a wolf." He drew his watery fingers up along the edges of her beak. "So-oo very thirsty." He continued and Sara's stomach twinged in need again.  
"Mm, yes ..." She opened her beak and he poured down her throat.  
He withdrew his watery fingers and she grasped for his shoulders. "Liquidator brand."

"I've told you before, Li-qui-dat-or! You can't keep tricking me like that!"  
He laughed. "Yes, and it's still a free sample."  
"It's still dangerous; I could swallow you whole!"  
"That would be a novel experience."  
"It would be a very short one, let me tell you!"  
"I would go straight to your head." He grinned at her.  
Sara gazed at Liquidator. "All your conniving little schemes, Bud." Sara paused as her mind drifted for a moment, watching the flumes working in his liquefied brain, feeling a thrill of excitement about the mystery bubbling thoughtfully before her. "Not that I would mind it ..."  
Liquidator grinned. "Doctor?"  
"I wouldn't mind it if you went straight to my head." She smiled and skimmed her hands along his surface. "Why don't you come a little bit closer?"


	15. Insanity Laughs

**Insanity Laughs**

* * *

Phantom Duck woke up lying on a game show wheel in a dark vacant studio. He got down and considered the wheel.  
"Impressive ..." He examined the spikes that were attached to the edge of the wheel and found them hollow which was rather unusual for an average game show wheel. "This is a rather well built device, Liquidator. Who is your provider?" He ducked his head and looked under the wheel.

He instantly recognised the brand name on the control panel. "My suspicion was correct." He paused for a moment, looking at the sinister mechanical components underneath. "Now why would a supposedly hand operated toy need such a heavy duty motorized mechanism, Quackerjack?"

The masked mallard opened the panel and glanced at the coloured buttons with a thrill of excitement. "Oh, I really must find out how this works!" He pushed the large green button and the wheel started spinning, taking an incredible speed.

Phantom's hat blew off as he sat back on the floor, gaping at the spinning wheel. "... Only those two could come up with something like that." He shook his head. "I know the Muddlefoots used to watch Wheel of Torture but I think this version would be called death by centrifuge." He crawled closer and his beak was dangerously close to the hollow spokes as he pressed the off button. Of course, under the high speed wheel was an ideal place to hide it that was still easily reachable for Liquidator. "So Liquidator's dealing in the black market ..." Phantom fetched his hat, "heck if I know why though." He sat his hat back on his head. "Who'd pay for it at his inflated prices when it's a literal free-for-all out there on the streets?" He straightened, "anyway, I have a far more important line of inquiry to follow than Liquidator's sideline gig and that is Police Commissioner Grizlykoff."

* * *

"So? What is report, Professor Ducker?" Grizlykoff sat opposite the duck in the chair, watching him stirring his cup of tea.  
"We are clearly dealing with an epidemic." Ducker slurped his drink. "It would be easier to burn the whole city down and start again. Vampires are like rats, commissioner, and we are, as it were, fluteless."

"Don't you wish the problem would just ... disappear into thin air?"

Ducker jumped up, raising a crossbow at the shadows in the room. "I think we have an interloper." He advised Grizlykoff.  
"Careful with that thing, Ducker, you could take someone's eye out with that."  
Grizlykoff looked around the room. "Where is he?"  
"All around us. Come on out, vampire."  
"I'm trying to be civil. I want to help fix this problem, I have an answer. It involves a lot of hard work but I think with a better paper trail ..."  
"I really don't understand how you can keep talking. Why don't you just come out so I can destroy you?"  
"That's not very nice company you have there, Grizlykoff. I have an idea that'll work, if you'll only just listen for a few moments, commissioner I can explain-."  
Ducker swore at him. "Vampires only take a few moments to kill. I'm not willing to give you an easy mark."  
"Guns can kill quite easily too. Or it could take many hours of excruciating agony to die from a gunshot wound. Isn't that right, commissioner?"  
"Who are you?" Grizlykoff asked nervously.  
There was no answer.  
"Hello?" Grizlykoff called out.  
"He's gone; I can feel it." Ducker advised. "That vampire seemed to know you, commissioner."  
"Yes, he ... sounds familiar ... but ..."  
"Well don't think anything of it, Grizlykoff. Vampires are expert hypnotists. They can make you believe just what they want you to believe. Now, shall we start on our vampire problem?"  
"Ya." Grizlykoff shrugged uncomfortably. "But where? How?"  
"The first thing you should know is that city vampires are the easiest to eliminate. They love networking; one vampire leads to another. Give me a list we can start following them."  
"A list?" Grizlykoff repeated, "of known vampires?"  
"Yes. I can hardly believe that your department hasn't discovered the name of one single vampire, commissioner?"  
"Ya, we know a vampire."  
"So then you must give me the details."  
"But ... she is under state protection."  
Ducker angrily slammed his fist on the table. "Darn it, Grizlykoff, if you want to solve this problem, then you'll have to give me all you've got! I can't do this job otherwise, in fact I should pack my bags now since it's pointless for me to be here if you're going to pick an evil vampire to save over the citizens you're sworn to protect!"  
"No, I do not choose vampire!"  
"I'm ever so glad to hear it." Ducker sat back down. "Kindly provide me with the details."  
"Here." Grizlykoff sighed and went looking in his drawer for the file. "This is file for Belladonna Bushroot."  
"Thank you. I'll get my team tailing her right away. You will of course assign me more officers?"  
"Yes, yes. I'll reassign as many as you want."

* * *

"Sara?" Liquidator roused his girlfriend asleep on the waterbed beside him. "I've got to go to work."  
"That's not news, Bud; you always got to work at this time in the afternoon on a weekday." She turned over so her back was turned to him. "We've had this discussion time and time before; I'll get up when my internal clock says to. Now do go on and leave me alone."  
"You wish for me to leave you alone ... even when it's about Phantom Duck?"  
She turned back over and sat up. "Okay, that is news." She rubbed her eyes.  
"Phantom Duck had a list in his notebook. My name was on it. It was ticked and beside it was written 'JGH'. Does that mean anything to you?"  
"James Gander Hooter?" Sara blinked at him. What else was written on the page?" Liquidator handed her the small whiteboard that he'd taken from the hall stand. He'd rewritten the list for her, arrows and ticks and crosses.

**Crime - LP**  
**Steelbeak - ND**  
**Grizlykoff**  
**Bushroot - JGH**  
**Quackerjack - JGH**  
**Liquidator - JGH**  
**Megavolt - JGH**  
**Vampires**

"Oh, my." Sara blinked, "he's figured it out!"  
"Us?"  
"No, look, Bud, he's crossed crime but ticked you. That means he knows you're not a part of the crime problem."  
"Crime, vampires and Grizlykoff." Liquidator frowned. "I don't get it."

"No, not ... Look, I'll rub out all the lines that have been ticked." Sara started rubbing out words and showed him the list again.

**Crime - LP**

**Grizlykoff**

**Vampires**

"I'm afraid I still don't get it."

"Oh, that's okay, Bud; you're a showman, not a detective." Sara consoled him. "Looking at this list makes me think this Phantom Duck individual is or rather used to be Darkwing Duck. If he doesn't realise he has the answer he's at least looking in the right direction." Upside down she drew arrows going straight between the gaps up from vampires to Grizlykoff to crime.  
"But then why would he write your old boss's initials against my name?"  
"I'm not sure. If Director Hooter wasn't dead I would've thought he was a reference point."  
"I wonder." Liquidator looked at the whiteboard in his watery hands.  
"I certainly think it's worth wondering about! How could Darkwing Duck have survived a fatal shooting, incineration and a fatal fall from a second story window all at once?" Sara mused.

"Insanity laughs." Liquidator put the whiteboard back on the side table. "Good afternoon, Sara." He arched forwards and they kissed.


	16. The Networking Vampire

**PHANTOM DUCK**

**PART 16**

* * *

**The Networking Vampire**

* * *

Doctor Sara Bellum was sitting on her chair facing her computer screens, staring at the database matching software results on Phantom Duck's DNA sample. From the encyclopaedic S.H.U.S.H. criminal database there was a 93% probability match to Negaduck.

"Quite ...!"

The computer finished conducting the search. From the personnel files a screenshot of Darkwing Duck popped open over the top of Negaduck's page. The screen blinked. There was a 93% probability match to Darkwing Duck.

"... Inconclusive." She shook her head. "And for a moment I thought I had the whole thing solved, too."

Sara dragged Darkwing's window to sit beside Negaduck's window and stared at the two faces on the screen.

"Definitely inconclusive. Or, to put it in more useful terms: Insufficient data." She leaned back from her computer with a shrug, "but at least I've narrowed the enigmatic Phantom Duck down to two possible suspects." She blinked at the two masked mallards and Sara's mind wandered back to her memories of Darkwing. He'd never been all that bad a sort. Apart from his ego which hadn't even been the thing that had brought him to his end...

There was a knock on her door which snapped Sara out of her reverie.

* * *

Sara recognised the familiar set of vampire heart beats of her youngest friend. "Oh, do come in, Bella." She mentally unlocked the door and let it swing open.  
The blonde duck came in. "Hi, Sara."

Belladonna had a worried look on her face as she looked around the lab setup. "Um ... have you given up on your infusion experiment?"  
"I'm not giving up; I was just taking a break." Sara clarified in a firm voice.

"Any luck with Tarnia tonight?" She asked about Bella's pet problem.  
"No." Belladonna moaned from the other side of Sara's computer bench. "She wouldn't even touch her dinner tonight. I don't understand. The triplets ate so much more-."  
"-When they were her age." Sara finished Bella's line with a shake of her head. "Each tree in a row of saplings never grows at exactly the same speed. But I've been thinking about this problem of yours. Remember how you told me that Reginald never has any trouble getting Tarnia to eat?"  
"Oh, yes." Bella said in mild annoyance. "She certainly is 'daddy's little girl'; our Tarnia."  
"So why don't you talk to Reginald about being home more often for the children's dinnertime?" Sara asked.  
Bella sighed. "I can't do that, Sara; I can't argue with him; not when Reggie is doing the right thing. And-and he's being so very brave ... you know he saved Phantom Duck the other night?"  
Sara shook her head. "What are the odds he'd show up at the right place needing help at the right time?"  
"Pretty good." Bella said matter-of-factly. "You know Vespers like plants almost as much as they like the dark."  
"That is true." Sara looked around at her apartment void of plants. "I'd get a plant ... um, that is if I didn't think ... uh, I'd kill it with 'kindness'."  
Bella shook her head. "The main reason us vampires live in cities is for the food supply. I mean, not everyone can live on a hundred acres with their own herd of wild buffalo to snack on."

Belladonna looked over at the electrical set up as she licked her beak, "speaking of eating; how is the electricity idea going?"  
"There's just got to be a way to super vitalise blood for the populace so we don't have to drink so much of it." Sara answered. "I've gone over Megavolt's case file again and again but the most I've done is cook the sample."  
"Yuck!" Belladonna blanched. "That's disgusting."  
"You're not the one taste-testing it!" Sara grizzled. "Oh, come, Bella, you're a scientist too. You know as well as the next scientist that a little suffering is necessary for science."  
"I'm married to the next one of us!" Bella objected, crossing her arms. "My children eat fertilizer and I'm fine with that but-this-is-just-gyah!" Bella shuddered. "Sara ... it's cooked! I mean ... just yuck."  
"How lovely it is to have this conversation with you, Bella." Sara pursed her beak.  
"I'm sorry, Sara." Bella sighed. "You're so good at coping with all this. I'm ... well, I'm just not."

* * *

"Can we change the subject?" Belladonna considered the microscope. "What's this new thing you're working on, Sara?" She queried.  
"Why don't you take a look? It won't bite you."  
"Now you're just teasing me." Bella looked down into the microscope.  
"What you're seeing is a sample of Phantom Duck's DNA. Bud procured it last night." Sara detailed. "We've been trying to determine who Phantom Duck's previous identity was."  
"Us too." Belladonna nodded. "Reggie still thinks he's Darkwing Duck, but at the mall he sounded an awful lot like Negaduck to me. Who is he, Sara?"  
"Phooey." Sara pouted.  
"What 'phooey'?" Belladonna was apologetic, "oh, Sara, I'm sorry; what have I said?"

"As it so happened Darkwing Duck and Negaduck shared the same DNA. The only thing I can tell you is so does Phantom Duck."  
"No way!" Belladonna widened her eyes at Sara. "Twins?"  
"Er, yes, way." Sara raised an eyebrow at her young friend. "This theory is assuming of course that Phantom Duck doesn't make them 'triplets'."  
"But-but Neg- and Dark-... they-were-mortal-enemies!"  
"I've double checked my data storage system, Bella." Sara gestured to the computer and jiggled the mouse to wake up the screen. "The only difference between Darkwing Duck and Negaduck was that their Trons were charged differently and I'm afraid there's no Tron charge in a pile of dust."  
"Oh." Belladonna looked into the microscope. "Phooey indeed."

"Anyway, it's no real matter, is it?" Sara offered a spare stool to the visibly harried Belladonna.

* * *

"From the evidence Bud's given me," Sara returned to the mystery on hand, "I think Phantom Duck may in fact be Darkwing Duck. Darkwing Duck was a detective and Negaduck wasn't."  
"That wasn't Darkwing Duck at the mall." Bella shook her head. "His smell was all wrong."  
Sara raised an eyebrow. "So would he be Negaduck then?"  
"No. I met him in the street on an earlier night. His smell was all wrong for Negaduck."  
Sara petted Bella's arm. "Never mind, Bella. Considering the current state of things it isn't important which one he really is. Or should I say 'was'. That is to say; I doubt one lone vampire mallard could change the state of the city for better or worse."

"You might change the colour of your leaves when you hear the news I have for you-."  
"You are ever so dramatic, dear." Sara said in mild amusement. "Go on."  
"-My husband's ready to join up with him. With Phantom Duck." Belladonna folded her arms across her chest. "Big difference now, isn't it?"  
"Hmm..." Sara tapped her beak in thought. "Both Darkwing and Negaduck were anarchists in their own inimitable fashions. But that does lead me to ask 'why' your Reginald would go against Steelbeak?"

"Because those horrible people ..." Bella sobbed. "They're shooting wooden bullets now, Sara."  
"Oh, good heavens. They must be using modif-sorry." Sara caught herself from launching into the topic of guns. "Go on."  
"They took a shot at me last night," Bella retold the tale, "using wooden bullets." Belladonna repeated with a moan. "That's adding insult to injury for my poor husband. Because he's physically out there at that store each night. Keeping the door open, playing his part, trying to keep people alive and now this."  
Sara put her hand on Bella's arm. "Dear me. No vampire with half a brain will be blaming your husband for wooden bullets, Bella ..."  
"I told him that but it's still a double whammy for him, Sara. He's beside himself. I mean, just to get him to sleep I had to ..." Bella paused suddenly.  
Sara noticed Bella's heart rate jump up and she went pink. "What?" Sara asked in alarm, looking around the room. "What is it?"  
"Uh, nothing. Never mind."  
"Okay." Sara relaxed.

"There's nothing intentionally personal about it. The vampire hunters have been using wood for a lot longer than Reginald's been around." Sara tapped her beak in thought. "I wish I had some evidence that he's not in troub... wait, yes I do! Wait here." Sara crossed her flat and collected Liquidator's whiteboard from the bedside table.

* * *

"Here, Bella. This is Phantom Duck's list of suspects he's investigating. Your husband was originally on it, but he's been ticked off as okay."  
"He was?" Bella took the board and read it. "Vampires to Grizlykoff to Crime. Oh, Grizlykoff - that's ... that's the police commissioner, right?"  
"Right."  
Bella looked at the board again. "This is reassuring."  
"How so?"  
"Well, this Phantom Duck guy obviously knows what's going on, doesn't he?"  
"It would appear so, although Darkwing Duck was not famous for noticing the obvious."  
"I'm sure he's okay because he did help me at the mall against the police officer last night." She smiled at Sara. "So I can tell Reggie that it really is alright. Oh, thank you, Sara!" Bella hugged Sara with a sudden flourish of affection. "I'd better get home now so I can tell him."

"Uh, sure. You ... take care, Bella." Sara smiled back feeling slightly confused as her friend walked out of the flat.

* * *

Sara relocked the door and with her empty stomach returned to contemplating her unsuccessful experiment.

"If I only had a living specimen, I could make this work-whoops; I-said-that-aloud!" She blinked and whirled around to the clock. "Oh, thank goodness, he's still at work." She sighed, rummaging around for the telephone handset. 'I really must learn to double-check Liquidator is not in before I have a mad vampire scientist moment.' She located the phone sitting on top of Professor Daisy Bovine's research paper on nano-vitamins and moved back to her table to review her latest failed project's schematics. "He's charming, really, but he always takes me ever so seriously." Sara punched in a number in the phone and listened for the pick-up.

"Hello? Who is it?" The miniature voice asked.

"Hello, Thomas, it's Sara. Is your daddy around?"  
_"Yes, I'll just see if he can come to talk to you."_  
"Thank you."  
_"Dad?" _Thomas's muffled voice called out._ "It's Aunty Sara on the phone for you ... Uncle Liquidator's girlfriend ... Doctor Bellum. She's the one who's been trying to make super blood."_

There was a moment.

_"Hello?"_  
"Hi, Elmo." Sara picked up her pencil and began fiddling with it. "I just wanted your opinion over an electrospray aerosol generator to supply nano-vitamins?"  
_"I'm ... not entirely sure how that would work. Unless you vaporise the blood as well?"_  
"Drat." Sara tossed down her pencil. "I didn't think that one out properly. I must be getting desperate. Or old. Or old and desperate, oh no!"  
_"Whoa, cool your circuits, Doctor Bellum! The electrospray might work!"_ Megavolt argued through the phone. _"If you think about it 'drinking' blood is really just the traditional method; there's no scientific rule about what form a vampire actually needs their energy source to be in."_

"Er, um ..." 'Walk into a room full of vaporised blood?' Sara suddenly felt a bit queasy. "I'm not sure whether I'd have a very popular product if it didn't actually bear a fair resemblance to blood in the traditional liquid sense."  
_"Oh, so it has to be liquid? Now aren't we being picky?"_ Megavolt mocked. _"So it doesn't matter how-."_  
"I know, Elmo! You're right!" Sara interrupted what was going to be yet another rant about the myriad of dim-witted social perceptions in the world that were based on superficial characteristics like 'liquid' or 'metal'. "I just want one quick step to boosting the energy content."

_"Well. That's easy. Run a neuron pulse through it."_  
"I can't do that!" Sara quacked in objection.  
_"Sure you can, all you need is the right sort of generator. I can bui-."_

"No!" Sara felt like pulling her hair out. "I've thought about this one already! It won't work!" Sara quacked, close to tears. "The dissipation rate is exponential! That's like putting ice cubes into a glass of water and coming back five hours later expecting it to still be cold! It needs to last long enough to be of any benefit. A neuron pulse won't work!"  
_"All right, all right! Take it easy! Don't blow a fuse."_

She dropped the phone and put her face in her hands.

* * *

_"... Doctor Bellum ...?"_ Megavolt's tiny electric voice ventured across the phone.  
"Yes?" She dragged her hair back from her face and brought the phone's speaker up against her ear slit again. "I'm still here."  
_"I have another idea."_  
"Does it still involve a neuron pulse generator?"  
_"Um ... not necessarily ..."_  
Sara raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

_"I think maybe you should talk to Quackerjack about this."_  
"Quackerjack? What for? Cheering up?"  
_"You have an answer but you can't sell it. He used to have that problem with his toys. I don't know much about customers and markets and frankly-I-couldn't-think-of-anything-more-boring but his toys sell now."_  
Sara stared at the wall in front of her, her mind turning quickly. '... The vitalised blood doesn't have to be found on a supermarket shelf ...'  
_"Hello? Uh, well, glad to provide some illumination on the subject. Good luck."_ The phone cut off.  
'... Maybe the unit itself doesn't need to be sold to the general public either ... But rather ... sold to vendors instead! The vitalising unit could be installed ... next to the espresso machine! In coffee shops! Oh, it would be good to go to a coffee shop and order something healthy! Oh yes!'

Sara blinked, eventually hearing the dial tone. "Oh, uh, thanks, Elmo." She put the phone down and ripped out the drawn on page so she now had a fresh sheet of paper to start a new sketch on. "A neuron pulsifier ... hmm."


	17. Lavender Blue

**Lavender**** Blue**

* * *

Reginald Bushroot heard his wife step inside the doorway of the greenhouse.  
"Mummy!" Julie ran away from his side to greet her. "Good you had a nice talk with Aunty Sara and you're feeling all better now." Reginald was half listening to their conversation as he continued his answer on the whiteboard for the children's question on the chemical science behind grafting one tree limb onto another entirely different tree.  
"Yes, my little posie." Belladonna was replying to Julie. "Everything's going to be ..." Bella abruptly stopped speaking and Reginald stopped writing on the whiteboard. "Reggie, get Tarnia!" She called and he could hear she was on the verge of panic. "Simon, Harry, come to mummy!"

Reginald grabbed Tarnia into his vines and noted Harry and Simon were already racing across the greenhouse to the front doors.

"They're outside." Belladonna stated numbly, looking at him. "You were right, Reggie. They're vampire hunters."  
Reginald shuffled Tarnia in his vines. "The box hedges are holding them back for the moment ... but the disadvantage to that is that they're also boxing us in ... We're-uh-stuck," he swallowed. 'So much for me reassuring you. Sorry, Bella.'  
Bella gulped. "M-maybe a p-plan could help?" She stuttered.

"I know how to get out!" Simon piped up. "If we all hold hands and stay close together, we can all turn to shadow and they won't see us leave the greenhouse."  
"And then where are we gonna go, Simon?" Harry grizzled.  
"Well, what's your idea, Harry?" Simon folded his vines.  
"I think we should just wait until they get bored and they do the leaving." Harry offered.  
"Don't be so thick, Harry!" Simon snapped.  
"I am not thick!"  
"Then you should grow more leaves so you look the part!"  
"Oh, please, Simon, not now!" Julie begged.  
"I'm just saying! Those guys won't get bored, they'll get impatient and that's when they'll think to get out the garden clippers. If we don't get out of here soon, Julie, the question of where to go will be moot because we'll be mulch!"  
"Simon! Enough!" Reginald quacked to mute him and he looked to Bella. "We have to ask Phantom Duck to help us. That's where we'll go" he decided. "Come on, everyone, join hands."  
Reginald put Tarnia on the floor and took her and Harry's hands. In a moment they were all joined in a circle, and he closed his eyes, feeling the Vespers take control and convert his molecules into mist.

In shadow form they slipped under the door and past the group of box hedges fighting off the vampire hunters.

* * *

In less than ten minutes they'd found Macawber Chateau.

They turned corporeal again and Reginald glanced at Belladonna as the door opened.  
"Bushroot?" The woman in purple stated with some surprise.  
"Hi, Morgana. This is my wife and our children. Julie, Harry, Simon and Tarnia." He said fondly. "We're looking for uh ... your husband."  
"Were you followed?" Morgana looked out beyond them suspiciously.  
"No; we came in shadow." Belladonna answered. "Either they think we're still back at the greenhouse or they realise they've lost us."  
"Okay." Morgana opened the door up wider. "Come inside then. My husband is in the lounge

room, Bushroot. Come to the kitchen, everyone, I've just made fresh ghoulade."

* * *

Reginald stepped into the lounge and into the middle of a heated discussion.

'So but is he still a crook?' the mental projection of Launchpad asked.  
"I don't suppose so, no. He has his job; he's gone cleaner than the guys I chased to him." Phantom argued, pacing in a circle.  
'Oh, you want him to be a crook, because you're just dying to get out that old squeegee mop on him.' Negaduck slouched on the armchair, making a wringing motion with his spectral hands.  
"I don't know what his motives are! Give me just a teensy break, Negaduck."  
'Not much luck on both counts,' Negaduck snitted. 'I can't break you and I can't go away.'

"Phantom Duck?" Bushroot said with great hesitation, "I'm sorry for interrupting."  
Phantom Duck jumped in shock. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here."  
"That's okay; I can see you've got a lot on your mind." He glanced at the spectral image of Negaduck. "Can I help you with that? Um ... what's the question?"  
'He didn't tie you up, DW.' The image of Darkwing's sidekick, Launchpad stated.  
"Yeah, that was weird." Phantom Duck looked back at Bushroot. "Liquidator just let me go. He knocked me unconscious and then just walked away."  
'Oh, I know ...' Launchpad smiled sincerely. 'You're worried he doesn't care anymore.'  
Negaduck cracked up laughing. 'Oh, that's too rich ... oh, you're killin' me!'  
"Too late!" Phantom snarled. "Pipe down, we have company."

Bushroot shrugged. "Liquidator stays aloof of most everyone these days. But then Licky always did keep his thoughts to himself."  
"So, but is he a bad guy or a good guy?"  
'That is the question.' Bushroot watched a third mental image appear. This one was an elderly owl in a business suit.  
"Get outta here! I've told you before!" Phantom screeched.  
"Whoa, whoa!" Bushroot stretched his vines around the masked mallard and shook him firmly. "He's not real, Phantom."  
Phantom frowned at Bushroot. "You ... can you see him?"  
Bushroot let him go. "I can see ... what you think you see."  
"Hooter won't leave me alone." Phantom sobbed. "This is all my fault. I don't deserve to be left alone; that's why. I'm paying for it. I'll never be alone!"  
"W-what a horrible thing to think." Bushroot let go of him. "They're mental projections. You get control of your mind back and they'll go away and leave you alone."  
"No." Phantom moaned, "they always come back."

* * *

Morgana came in followed by Belladonna, making Bushroot look away from Phantom. "Is everything alright, Dark?"  
"Yeah, Morg. Bushroot was just rescuing me from myself." Then his eyes sharpened. "So why'd you risk all of us by coming here, Bushroot?"  
"Well, that guy that went after Bella, you know; the one you took down the other night? He was just the first. We're under greenhouse arrest."

"Did you get a look at what sort they were?"  
"Oh, cops." Belladonna replied. "But there's one guy, he reeks of death."  
"A duck in a tweed suit?"  
"Yes."  
"That'll be Grizlykoff's new boy."  
"W-d'you mean commissioner Grizlykoff's got that vampire slayer on his force now?"  
"My guess is he knows where you are and you're first on his list, angel heart."  
"Do you think they'll do that?"  
"Jerk wouldn't let me get a word in edge ways." Phantom said discouragingly.  
"Why, this is an outrage!" Bushroot suddenly bellowed. "I haven't broken my contract!" He curled his vines around Belladonna. "Th-they've got no right to hunt you down, my love."  
"Let me get this straight." Phantom scratched his head. "Reginald doesn't get into trouble, and you get left alone with a free supply of blood?"

Bushroot frowned, turning to Phantom. "What'll we do?"  
"I don't think they realise getting a slayer in won't solve the problem."  
"Sure, we're vampires; we just make new vampires to make up for it." Belladonna glanced at her husband. "It's not as if there's only one way to do it."  
Phantom scratched his head. "There's more than one way to make more vampires?"  
"Um ... yes." Belladonna blushed. "Some of us use venom to-."  
"Yeah!" Phantom frowned at her impatiently, "I got all that. It takes a minimum of twenty four hours and the ideal time frame is seventy two hours." He shook his head. "The trouble is that it only takes one screw loose slayer with an arsenal supplied by the police department to stake a lot more vampires in one night than you can make."  
"I'd better tell Megavolt about this guy." Bushroot decided.  
"Wait!" Phantom grabbed his vine. "They'll be looking for someone green. I'm not a vampire but I can still get there faster than you because I can turn to shadow. I know where he is. I was there the other night."  
"Yes," Morgana said determinedly. "Stay here, Reginald; Dark's right. Come along, we'll get something sorted out for where you can sleep."

* * *

"Thank you so much." Belladonna stated.  
"That's quite alright, dear." Morgana stated grandly. "Now, your children; I'm afraid there's not much shade in the garden."  
"Oh, that's alright. They can just come inside when they've had enough sun."  
"Sun!" Morgana repeated, regarding Belladonna. "But can you be out in the sun with them?"  
Reginald tightened his hold on Belladonna. "They know where to find their mother."


	18. Rescue Me

_A/N: Starts obscenely singing to self song of same title._

* * *

**Rescue Me**

* * *

Phantom reformed at the door to the lighthouse and knocked. He noticed a colourful bubble bug car parked up the drive as he waited.  
The door opened. "I should've figured you'd only just begun to haunt us. Come on in." Megavolt stepped aside and closed the door behind him. "Felicia." He called out as he stepped up the stairs. "The spook's back again."

This time, when Phantom stepped up into the lounge room, the floor had several of Quackerjack's toys scattered about. That wasn't overly odd when combined with the fact that sitting on the floor in the middle of them was none other than Quackerjack himself.

"Well, hello, Mr. Phantom Duck." He grinned up at Phantom. "Or should I say 'hello again'?" He giggled and jumped up, holding out his hand to Phantom Duck.  
"Quackerjack." Phantom said in a warm and friendly tone. "If you don't remove the joy buzzer right now I'll do it for you. By removing your hand. From your wrist. Your choice."  
Quackerjack jumped back and quickly discarded the toy. "Oh, my, aren't we the killjoy today?"

Phantom Duck paused for a moment. "sorry." he said in a maudlin tone, "but I don't have time to play, Quackerjack."  
"That's alright. I've got lots of friends to play with ..." Quackerjack shrugged as he gazed up at Phantom, "although none of them have your qualifications. Or don't you do that sort of thing anymore?"  
Phantom rolled his eyes at Quackerjack. "Thanks, but don't go on."

"We've got problems, Megavolt." Phantom turned, Felicia was beside her husband now. "Grizlykoff's managed to hire a Vampire Slayer and at the top of his list is Belladonna Bushroot. I expect I'm up at the top of it too, but the greenhouse is sort of a giveaway clue even to the intellectually challenged."  
"Drat." Quackerjack frowned. "So much for all that good behaviour tripe." He stomped his foot. "Steelbeak's stopped playing fair."  
"All's fair in death and war." Phantom responded hollowly. "But unless Steelbeak's married to Grizlykoff, I'm inclined to just blame the commissioner for this fiasco."  
Megavolt blinked at Phantom. "Where have you been hearing that one?"  
"That all's fair in death and war?"  
"No, the other one. The bear and the rooster."  
Phantom stared back.

"O-okay, let's just change the subject back to something a little more sane, shall we? We have a slayer problem. I, Belladonna, and you, Felicia."  
"Yes." She frowned. "A slayer could do a lot of damage to the status quo. Did you get this slayer's name?"  
"No, I'm sorry; I missed it while I was busy not getting shot through with arrows."  
Felicia tsked. "Pity you're not really a vampire. That skill would be very useful for you."  
"I'll pass." Phantom Duck stepped back, holding his hands out in front of him protectively in case she thought to 'help' him. "I don't want to live any longer than my wife needs."

The three of them stared at him for a long moment.

"So ..." Quackerjack changed the awkward silence. "How're we gonna bring down this guy?"  
"Let'sss fry him!" Megavolt sparked.  
"Oh, well, that's creative." Phantom snarked. "Like you ain't done that a thousand times before, battery breath? Boy; never a dull moment for you, is there, Edison?"  
"Yeah? Well how about you think of something, duck?"  
"He wants to hurt Belladonna." Phantom said darkly. "I say we pull the rug out from underneath him." He smiled. "And then fry him."  
"Oo!" Quackerjack exclaimed, clapping his hands. "That'll be fun!"

Phantom frowned at Quackerjack. "It's not your fight, toymaker."  
"You're kidding? Without vampires, I have no customers. This is just ensuring my liquidity." His eyes opened wider. "We should get Liquidator on this."  
"Isn't he happy with his high paying job?" Phantom snarled. "Not to mention busy with his sideline racket?"  
"Don't be like that Mr. Grumpy Pants!" Quackerjack admonished, "Licky is great at this sort of thing."  
"Fine. Quackers, if Licky wants to help. But we won't know unless you ask him."  
"Oh yeah, sure! I'll go find him right now and tell him!" Quackerjack bounded down the stairs.

Phantom turned back to the Sputtersparks. "Are you guys under direct suspicion?"  
"I wouldn't be their first guess." Felicia answered. "But considering my job, I wouldn't give that slayer too long to find me."  
Megavolt stepped forwards regarding Phantom. "Tell me more about this rug idea of yours, Phantom Duck."  
Phantom Duck smiled at Megavolt. "This is a cracker." He slouched over and sat down on the edge of the nearby armchair, picking up an unassuming ballerina doll and showing it to them. "Grizlykoff's not the only one with a slayer." He grinned. "Genuine, grade A bona fide-." He squeezed the doll's middle and it transformed into a tall green ghoul with sharp claws.  
"Holy Edison." Megavolt grabbed Felicia. "This slayer that you know; are they on our side?"  
Phantom dropped the doll on the floor. "Better than that." He laughed. "She's actually sane."

* * *

"Join us tomorrow folks for another 'Wheel or Deal!' " Liquidator grinned at the camera as the studio audience cheered. Then it was all over for another night and he puddled back to his dresser. Everywhere there were tracking strips and signs so people wouldn't slip on the wet floor.

He closed his door and noticed the decor was slightly more festive than usual. "Quackerjack, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"  
Quackerjack bounced up and down on the spot in excitement. "We wanna get the Fearsome Five back together!"  
"Contracts are binding. Always read the fine print."  
"The commish's broken it!" Quackerjack announced angrily. "The contract's all dried up, Licky. Bushy's in hiding."  
Liquidator was horrified at this, "is Belladonna alright?"  
"She's fine." Quackerjack answered. "No thanks to old Grizzlepuff."  
"If anything had happened to her ..." Liquidator growled, pumping his fist into his other hand. Then it sank in that Quackerjack had said 'Fearsome Five'. "Wait ... who's on fifth?"  
Quackerjack laughed excitedly. "Our newest playmate is Phantom Duck!" The jester grinned, "He's come to help all our vampire friends ... and not a moment too soon."  
"And live, from the beak of Quackerjack a special news bulletin?" Liquidator prompted.  
"Grizlykoff's hired a Vampire Slayer, Licky. That's who crashed Bushroot's party. He's started with Belladonna because he knows where she is."  
"But they could have followed her!" Liquidator felt his insides steaming. "And she's friends with my Sara!" He deformed into a puddle, moving fast out of his dressing room.

"Hey, wait up, buddy!"

* * *

Liquidator raced along the gutters, Quackerjack running after him. He puddled up the stairs and got to Sara Bellum's door and slipped underneath.  
"Oh, you're five minutes early from work?" She blinked up at him. "I ran the tests. It's either Darkwing Duck or Negaduck."  
"Time's up!" Liquidator was severely on edge. "Grizlykoff's got a slayer. A Vampire Slayer, Sara. Have you talked to Bella in the last couple of nights?"  
She gulped "Yes-" The door knocked. She listened to the white noise of the visitor. "It's okay, it's Quackerjack. He followed you." Sara pushed her mind out, unlatching the door and opening it for him.

"Don't delay! Act now!" Liquidator grabbed her arm.  
"Bud, I can't take you, I'm sorry." Sara moved away from him and took Quackerjack's arm instead. "Can you meet us at my ..." She hesitated and looked at the door. "As a matter of fact, your timing is very good. That horrid slayer is coming up the stairs right now with a whole pose of police officers. Meet us at my hideaway, Bud." She smiled at him before vanishing with Quackerjack into a black cloud of vapour. The door closed quietly and the cloud vanished entirely.

Liquidator paused, watching the door for a moment. Waiting.

The door smashed open. "Alright, vampire you're dust!"  
"And you're all washed up!" Liquidator turned into a wall of water and bowled Sara's would be slayers clean over.

He poured down the stairs and out into the street's gutters, making his way to Sara's secret hideaway.


	19. Reunion

_A/n: Whoa, I don't know what sleep deprivation technique I was on when I edited that last installment._

* * *

**Reunion**

* * *

Bellum and Quackerjack took a breath once they'd gotten to the old abandoned petrol station.  
Sara Bellum took her glasses off and slipped them into a case, putting them on a shelf. "These aren't much use now."  
Quackerjack looked around. "Neat place. What is all this stuff?"  
"My inventions, my experiments. All my ideas abandoned with no practical use when S.H.U.S.H. was dismantled." Sara added sadly. "This is my little bunker to remind me of when I was useful ... when I was ... happy."  
Quackerjack turned from her and had a closer look at a few of her inventions. He considered the golf cart. "Oh, so this is ... your ... invention!" He scratched his head. "I didn't realise how much we were alike, Bellum."  
"Well, the difference I hazard a guess is that I'm considered slightly more sane than you." She cackled. "Ever so slightly."  
"Oh, posh, you wouldn't hold a little thing like sanity against a guy, would you?"  
Sara's mood dropped again and with a sigh she sat down on the floor in the centre of the room. "Criminally insane or the corrupt?"  
"Are you corrupt?"  
"No, Quackerjack, I'm just one of the simple people lost in the middle. Science is not inherently evil."

Quackerjack sat down on the floor in front of her, crossing his legs.

"There you are."

Quackerjack followed Sara's gaze and watched Liquidator reform in the room.  
"We could hide here!" Quackerjack gazed across the mechanic shop. "With all your neat toys."  
"Yes, as a matter of fact ... I just want to point out that we are doing that already."  
"I mean the Fearsome Five, doc." He continued unruffled. "Why, we're in full view of suburbia; no one would even think to look here!"

"Oh, no. You're not starting that up again?" Sara looked at the pair of them in pain.  
"One for all and all for one. If it be not to come then it be now. Time, like the gypsy will not stand still." Liquidator announced.  
"Why, what's happened?" Sara asked in alarm. "Don't tell me that ... tweed man we passed on the stair hurt someone?"  
"It was a close call. He went after Belladonna first. Both your heads are on the chopping block, Sara."  
"Oh my." Sara frowned. "Bella's my friend ..." She blinked, "so that's how he knew I was a vampire; because she came to visit me and he was following her!"  
"You're safe now." Quackerjack reassured her. "Suburbia is safer and we'll try and keep low until it's time to make a real comeback."

Sara pursed her beak at Quackerjack before looking at Liquidator. "Did he see where you went, Bud?"  
"He certainly saw me coming." Liquidator chortled.  
Sara smiled, relaxing. "Splendid. So where are the others now, Quackerjack?"  
"You know, I'm not actually sure where Bushy and Bella are. But Phantom Duck was at Megavolt's lighthouse when I left."  
Sara stood up. "I'll go. I'm faster; I can get to the lighthouse like-."

She was gone.

* * *

Megavolt went down stairs to answer the door.  
"It's all rather underhanded, don't you suppose?" Felicia commented on Phantom's plan. "You know I think I'd prefer Elmo's plan to-."  
"I wasn't asking for your preference!" He gritted. "Of course you prefer his plan; after all you married him!"  
"What-do-you-mean-by-that?"  
"Look, I only wanted your opinion on whether you think it will work, Felicia."  
Felicia shrugged. "I don't know, Duck. You're three sheets to the wind without a sniff on you. All I can say is ..." she shrugged, "you're in good company."

"Hello Felicia, how are you?"

Phantom jumped up at the sound of Sara's voice.  
"Sara, my dear."  
"Doctor Bellum?" Phantom pointed at her. "Careful, Felicia, she's S.H.U.S.H.!"  
"Ex S.H.U.S.H." Sara cleared her throat. "Now I do market focused research for the mayor's office."  
Phantom Duck raised an eyebrow and harrumphed, crossing his arms.

* * *

"Ooh, calm down, Phantom Duck." Sara stepped up beside him, sliding her hand up across his front. "Just relax. We're safe and still warm. It's all okay."  
"Y-you're a vampire? W-why didn't you just say so?"

After an intense moment Sara Bellum stepped away from the masked mallard, a thoughtful look on her face.  
"What is it?" He gritted. "If you have something to say, by all means spit it out."  
"Very well. I'm fascinated that your immune system doesn't reject the other parts."  
"I have Vespers in my immune system."  
"Oh, silly me; of course you do." She tapped her beak. "Whose organs have you got, exactly?"  
Phantom backed further away. "How should I know? I wasn't conscious. All I know is that I work now. All the pieces fit." He spun away from her. "That's something I am not prepared to discuss ..."  
"Huh?" Bellum stared at him.  
"I hate it when you agree with each other." He turned to Sara. "I am fine!" He glared at her for a moment, fiercely challenging, then he stormed off.  
"Well, I'm glad to hear it?" Sara stated uncertainly. "I came to say that Liquidator and Quackerjack are waiting at my hideaway or - should I say 'safe house'?"

"What?" Phantom Duck grunted. "You mean that old gas station?"  
"You are Darkwing Duck!" Sara blinked.  
"Whatever you reckon of a walking jigsaw puzzle, doctor Bellum." He said in a clear voice. "That place of yours will be a bit crowded with all of us."  
"That Slayer's going to light up the wick on your chateau, Duck." Felicia warned. "Our lighthouse is exactly the same story. It's stuck out, waiting for a good bombing. It's just a matter of time before they get around to thinking of it."  
"Then I guess the rest of us will head to your safe house, Sara." Phantom finally agreed. He smiled darkly at her. "We wouldn't want everyone's favourite game show host to lose his better half."  
"Oh, fiddle, that does remind me. How forgetful am I?" She tsked. "You know the way." She smiled cheerily at them and vanished.

* * *

A few minutes after leaving them Sara returned to the gas station and stood close beside Liquidator. "Thank you for thinking of me. Saving me from decapitation is really the nicest thing anyone could ever do for me." She kissed him.


	20. Safe House

_A/n: I think I've gotten rather sardonic in my old age. I can't seem to watch a single commercial without scoffing in disdainful contempt._

* * *

**Safe House **

* * *

Liquidator and Sara Bellum stood back to watch as a magical portal shimmered into existence.

"Phantom Duck." Sara began, as he stepped through and came towards them. "I'd like to thank-."  
"Don't." The Duck growled, getting clear of the portal. "And for the record I'm not sweet."  
"Oh, very well." Sara crossed her arms.  
"Look, just ... stay outta that vampire slayer's sights from now on, alright?"  
"I shall make it a matter of top priority." Sara saluted casually.  
"Go-od." He gave her a twisted smile as more people arrived through the portal.

* * *

"So there are five of us again." Liquidator looked around at the men sitting around in the circle of folding deck chairs near the boarded up front windows of the abandoned suburban gas station.

In Megavolt's place was sitting Felicia who was looking rather electric at him for the comment. "Only five?"  
Liquidator looked back at the others. Sara, Morgana, Belladonna and Megavolt were across the way, sorting out the provisions and keeping the five children entertained with books and puzzle games. "Plus a significant amount of backup."  
"I should say so." Felicia accepted and relaxed back into her chair.

"I don't want to be a criminal anymore." Bushroot moaned. "But-but I want my kids safe. The triplets should be starting school next year." He sobbed regarding the gas station again like it was little better than a prison cell.  
"At least you can move to another city." Felicia advised him, grumbling unhappily to herself. "Belladonna can find another job elsewhere. But I don't have a job I can walk away from and it sticks me squarely in St Canard. I could send the twins overseas, but they really need their father's guidance."  
"Guidance? Megavolt?" Phantom Duck grunted slightly disbelieving. "This is the same Megavolt who tried to blow up his high school on prom night. The same Megavolt who-."  
Felicia cut him off. "This, of course is coming from a duck that dresses up in black and goes house-visiting in the dead of the night smelling of burnt petrol and smoked rubber." Felicia remarked. "Do you suppose a warped mental wreck such as yourself would be a better role model?"  
That brought a sneer from Phantom Duck. "Aw, now, did I say that?" He sniggered like it was some really good joke over her. He tsked, slowly shaking his head. "No; I don't think I did." He smiled savagely at her.  
"Hmm." Felicia glanced uneasily away from him.

* * *

Quackerjack meanwhile was frowning, buried in deep unhappy thoughts of his own as he studied his mobile phone. "This slayer is terrible for business. I can't have people sending their children away ...why then they won't be buying my toys in St Canard anymore."

"Did someone call for a slayer?" A young feminine voice echoed around the room.

They looked around and couldn't find the owner. Quackerjack stashed his phone away.  
"I am the Quack in the Dark!" The voice exclaimed. "I'm armed and dangerous. I am The Quiverwing Quack!" She appeared in front of them in a swirl of smoke and a sparkling electrical show.  
"Oo! Flashy entrance!" Quackerjack giggled, happy again.  
"You don't even know which side she's on yet, Quackers!" Felicia gritted to him.  
"Credit where credit is due, Flis. Some of us here appreciate showmanship." Quackerjack retorted and fetched Mr. Banana Brain from his pocket. "Why don't you take a pill, Jill?"

"Qu-Quiverwing!" Phantom jumped to a stand, "you ..." He put his hand to his head.  
"Take a seat, pops." She petted him on the back. "This is Honker, everyone."  
Honker quietly came up from behind her. "Uh, hi." He muttered shyly and glancing around at the faces in the group. Bushroot was timidly getting back into his seat and Felicia had a suspicious, guarded look on her face.  
"You think you're ready and able for this fight?" Liquidator asked. The boy was shaking his head in alarm so Liquidator returned his attention to the latest dramatist on the scene.  
"Sure: I've played Mulan." Quiverwing crossed her arms, watching Megavolt coming over. "But more importantly, I don't care how straight you guys have played it the last couple of years. The five of you are a long way from being sane. I can't sleep knowing you five are out making decisions that may end up destroying the city for good. I mean; I only just settled back into school."  
"That's a bit harsh on your own father." Quackerjack pointed at Phantom.  
"Do ... you ... know what he did last summer? Toymaker?" She accosted him.  
"You don't understand, Quiverwing!" Phantom countered. "I told you. I was just helping them redecorate!"  
She shook her head at him. "If I did understand, would I still say you're crazy, dad?"

* * *

"Look, can we not have this discussion?" He asked her with pain in his eyes. "I never said I didn't want you here." He looked at the Fearsome. "Quiverwing knows magic, she can aim arrows with pin point accuracy and she's stopped a couple of zombie rampages in Europe almost single-handedly."  
"Hey, I've heard of you." Felicia said brightly, "You're the up and coming in the peacekeeper sector."  
"That's news to me." Quiverwing raised an eyebrow at her. "Why's that?"  
"Indeed, inquiring minds would like to know." Liquidator prompted.  
"Because she's a slayer just like you are, Reggie."  
"No!" Reginald yelped in alarm. "Don't bring me into this! Please! I don't go around killing people all the time!"  
"I don't have a fret." Felicia smiled reassuring at him. "You did the right thing-."  
"Gosh, you say that like ..."  
"Sure, my job is harder without him around, but look: we have two slayers, a witch-that's Morgana, three vampires- Bella, Sara and me, two ducks-Honker and Quackers, an impervious wall of water and the remnants of the scariest thing those crooks out there ever saw on the streets of St. Canard." She pointed out Phantom Duck.

She smiled at Megavolt. "Not to mention my handsome electrical storm."

* * *

"Okay." Phantom Duck began. "I can't go into this blind. I need to know a couple of things about this situation. First of all: What deal did you make, Megavolt?"  
"What do you mean 'deal'?" Megavolt asked Phantom.  
"He keeps asking that." Bushroot remarked.  
"With Steelbeak. What deal did you make?"  
"Oh." Megavolt replied. "I've never spoken to Steelbeak."  
"Neither have I." Quackerjack said.  
"Well, I have spoken with him." Liquidator remarked, looking over at Bellum. "A very long talk. We ... agreed to disagree."

"I'm the one who took the deal." Bushroot said quietly. "He saw me as a legitimate threat." His eyes fell on his wife. "I was ready to destroy the whole city and then shrivel up and die without her."  
"Well now the deal's off." Phantom Duck finished. "The threat's back, in the form of a Slayer." He looked over at Quiverwing. "The streets are teeming with criminals and no one is safe out there."  
"Alright!" Quiverwing grinned, pumping her fist. "Let's teach them the meaning of 'fear'!"


	21. Mousetrap

**Mousetrap**

* * *

_"These brutal smash and grab style house raids over the past few days are set to continue as the St Canard Police Department continues to crack down on vampire activity that exists in the city. That's the news from the street and I'm Felicia Sputterspark."_  
_"Thank you, Felicia. There will be more news at nine. Coming up next that game show that's got everyone tuning in to watch: Wheel or Deal. But first a word from our sponsors."_  
_"Quackerjack toys: Fun for the sharper mind. Does your child-?"_

Steelbeak grabbed the remote and put the TV on mute. In the silence he found himself staring once again at the phone on his mayoral office table. It'd been days and there was still no word from Sara Bellum. His whole body twitched in a nervous worry.

He had several reasons to be fretting. Doctor Bellum had been in the middle of inventing a marketable solution to vampire chow. It would be a major bullet point in Steelbeak's re-election campaign if she succeeded. Plus hers was by far the only opinion he remotely respected on account of her being the only straight-talker with an ounce of grey matter in his whole bad-gum outfit ... and, oh yeah, he was still having feelings for her.

* * *

The phone bleeped suddenly, making Steelbeak jump. It was the intercom.  
"Yeah, Stan? You better make this good. Wheel or Deal is just starting."  
_"Boss, the commissioner you sent for earlier's just arrived."_  
"Took him bad-gum long enough. Send him in." Steelbeak looked up from the phone and watched the doors open.

"Grizlykoff, d'ya mind telling me what in the name of Dizzyworld is going on out there? Historically police catch people that make smash and grabs, they don't do 'em themselves. What kind'a stunt are ya trying to pull here?"  
"I hired the slayer, as you say to do."  
"A slayer? You actually found a slayer? You mean an actual in the flesh real McCoy slayer?" Steelbeak raised an eyebrow. "I'll give ya props; I didn't reckon a guy like Helsing really existed. Even a chick." He amended his statement.

"Anyways, I called you in coz Doctor Bellum ain't answered her phone in days. I want you to go look in on her for me."  
"Something has happened to Doctor Bellum?" Grizlykoff repeated in high concern. "It is wampires." The bear's shoulders slumped. "I should have look after her better."  
"Now, I don't wanna jump to no conclusions premature-like. I just plain don't know what's happened to her. That's why I asked you in here; so's you can find out."  
"Yes, sir."

"And I'd like to meet this slayer of yours too."  
"Of course, sir. I will go find him."  
"Wait ... What'd you just say?" Steelbeak hesitated on Grizlykoff's last words. "You telling me you don't know where he is?" He pointed reprovingly at Grizlykoff. "That don't look good, Sputnik."  
"I know where he is and that is he is all over city." Grizlykoff said happily.  
"Now, that don't seem likely being just one guy." Steelbeak frowned.

Grizlykoff, however, was vehement. "In a few more days making, we will be having no more wampires."  
"Whoa!" Steelbeak held up his hands, alarmed at the radical idea. "Let's ... let's not get carried away here."  
"I would to expect you be saying this." Grizlykoff frowned at him in marked disapproval.  
"Yeah, you bet!" Steelbeak retorted. "Coz I don't like your attitude. I ought'a knock you outta orbit for it."  
"You are not in F.O.W.L."  
"No, but you do make me miss those days when the only thing I had to worry about was Darkwing Duck showing up and making a nuisance of himself." Steelbeak rolled his eyes. "Oh, and while we're taking this trip down memory lane, why don't you remind me which of us made school captain?" He crossed his arms in savage triumph. "All I care about right now is keeping my majority vote for the election coming up and that means keeping the status quo happy."

"Look, Griz, what I'm asking you is dirt simple. Just snuff out the ones causing trouble and leave the rest alone." He paused. "Is he making any headway?"

"The slayer is doing a good job, sir. The number of bodies in the metropolitan has nearly halved already in just these few days."  
Steelbeak scoffed. "Yeah, what, from a smattering of 'smash and grabs'...?" He sighed in defeat. What could he say to argue when his research expert had vanished?

Steelbeak caught sight of his phone again.

He never really knew how much he'd come to depend on that dame. Seeing that perfect hour-glass figure half-hidden underneath that chaste lab coat as she strode out on those gorgeous gams. The giggle in her voice when she'd accidentally made something explode during one of her demonstrations. Her reassuring matter-of-fact tone of voice that told him whatever he needed to hear to get through the challenges that his latest career affronted him with. Affronting challenges like Grizlykoff.

"Meanwhile I want you to make it your priority to chase up Doctor Bellum for me. I want her found, are you clear? I want her back pronto."  
"Ya, sir." Grizlykoff left.

* * *

At Sara Bellum's not-so-abandoned gas station Phantom Duck was livid at her.

"No, you're not popping out anywhere! Sit down!"  
She sat down at the little square picnic table. "Of course it's not practical but it's been nights. Felicia gets to leave-."  
"Felicia has a job to do. She also has a lot more experience being a vampire than you have."  
"... And I just feel so-."  
"Bellum, we need to give this slayer a wide berth, or else! We can only do that by sticking it out in here." Phantom insisted and upturned a whole shopping bag full of juice cartons onto the table in front of her. "Think vegetables! Right, Felicia?"

Felicia came up from the children's play area. "Well, yes, Phantom, but you could be more patient. It does take a while for someone to adjust to even the idea of a different diet."  
"We don't have a while." He gritted.  
"I do apologise but it's hard to buy in to such an idea when what you're offering isn't very filling." Sara regarded the pile of cartons unappreciatively.  
"This isn't a-fine! You want a commercial? Try this slogan: 'drink this or die'! And wait, there's more. By choosing the second option and stepping outside you'll also be risking everyone else's lives in here."  
Sara Bellum sighed and picked up a carton and undid the lid. "This serves me right for expressing my feelings. Men take me just too seriously."

"I'm still shocked."

Phantom turned stonily to Belladonna who had discreetly joined in the conversation. "About?"  
"Is it really true that I won't die if I don't drink blood?"  
"Felicia!" Phantom quacked, clasping his hat in anguish.

Felicia folded her arms. "Are you accusing me of something, Phantom Duck? I spend all night every night teaching people about being vampires. She was supposed to be taught by her sire. In fact, I didn't make either her or Sara. It was frankly none of my business."

"Everybody stop." Phantom took a breath looking at Belladonna. "Who, um?"  
"Sired." Felicia offered.  
"Who sired you, Bella?"  
"I don't want to talk about it." Belladonna whimpered. "Please leave me alone. Reggie!" She cried out plaintively which of course brought the plant-duck immediately to her side.

"Okay, fine. I don't really care anyway." Phantom Duck gritted, glaring at Sara and Bella, "Look, you two. Just stay indoors and drink the juice, okay? That's what all the good little vampires with an ounce of self-discipline are doing in this city right now. We've got to lay low just a bit longer until this slayer problem is solved."

* * *

Grizlykoff put the esky down on Steelbeak's table on top of the newspaper article covering his primary competitor's latest press conference.  
"What's this, pal?" Steelbeak frowned at the tub. "I didn't order a picnic."  
"This may be of interest to you. It is a vampire's picnic, yes?" Grizlykoff pulled out a plastic wrapped thermos and put it on the table. "We've tested the DNA. It matches to bodies dumped in with trash about a week ago."  
"And again: why is this such news as to land on my desk?"  
"It only has one set of feather prints on it." He pulled out another thermos. "This is older and nearly empty. Same story. Dead by exsanguination. One set of fingerprints."

Steelbeak stared at Grizlykoff for a moment but the bear stood there waiting for him to respond. 'What, am I supposed to be impressed, here?' "Griz, having a conversation with you reminds me of a seven ten split."  
"I am not understanding. How is a conversation being like bowling?"  
"A seven ten split? Coz our two pins are so far apart that you're officially-driving-me-nuts!" Steelbeak snapped at him. "Griz, I'm still waiting for the reason why you felt I'd be anything but bored out of my skull with this evidence cooler of yours. Tell me something that'll knock my socks off about why this ice bucket is here."

"Because it was found in Doctor Sara Bellum's apartment."  
"I ..." Steelbeak gaped, "are you telling me the dame's a vampire?"  
"Or she was a vampire since the door was off its hinges-."  
"You're-telling-me-your-bad-gum-slayer-finished-off-my-Nobel-prize-lab-coat?" Steelbeak squawked. "Where's her dust? Bring it in here pronto!"  
"There was only a thimbleful of dust in the kitchen."

"No ... he's swept her clean ..."

* * *

Steelbeak stood up, ghost white angry. "Get-outta-here!" He paused, calming. "You dragged a wild card into St. Canard and he's ripping through all the wrong vampires."  
"The blood in her fridge does say she is a killer."  
"Gee, Griz." Steelbeak said with bitter sarcasm. "It just so happens that I don't care if she is a killer or if she's the red-shoed tooth fairy relocated-from-Valhalla!" He took another breath to calm himself. "Just to set you wise, it so happens that your wonderful slayer took out the one person trying to take vampires off the streets. She might just have done it in spades and she may have even turned a tidy profit on it."  
Grizlykoff stared at Steelbeak. "How?"

Steelbeak sat back down in his chair. "Ah, forget it before your brain overloads. But rest assured your trigger-happy cowboy's dusted that plan when he swept out the doctor." He was still the mayor. It was the re-election campaign he needed to focus on now. He put his feet up on the table beside the esky.

"Sir, what do you wish me to do?"

"I figure the joker ain't no Gizmoduck, so a bit of lead'll fix our little slayer problem before it gets any worse." He made a gun with his fingers in demonstration. "Is that coming in loud and clear for you? Have you got all that?"  
"Yes sir." Grizlykoff turned and headed out.

'Gets ... any ... worse?' Steelbeak jolted, taking his feet off the desk with a nasty thought. "Grizlykoff, wait!"  
The bear turned. "Yes, sir?"  
"You didn't ..." Steelbeak gulped, "... didn't tell him about Belladonna Bushroot, did you?"  
"Ya, I did, sir."

Steelbeak felt his heart clench painfully. "No." He croaked in disbelief.

"He said one vampire will help him find the next vampire. She was the only one I knew about so this information I give."  
"She-has-state-protection!" Steelbeak squawked. "You'd better stop this guy dead-in-the-water. If he dusts Belladonna Bushroot we won't just have vampires and crooks running the streets. We'll have the Fearsome Four up again and destroying actual infrastructure!"


	22. Gamester Resolution

_A/n: Opening the scene is me having a _Doctor Who_ moment. I dare say that I shan't be watching the latest story with you, alas woe and alack, but I am currently stuck in the past. My spirit is certainly with you, Clara and the Doctor. I'm betting it'll be a cracker._

_A/n: Forgive the extremely hack writing in the TV script aberration. I profess I don't really quite know what I'm dealing with here. I'm just out for a spot of fun so ... frankly you'll just have to deal with the scene as it is. (Yep, business as usual.)_

_A/n: Allons-y!_

* * *

**Gamester Resolution**

* * *

The world was freakishly normal at the Muddlefoot residence. A forgotten normal. It was the kind of normal that, when it finally came time for Scarlet to step outside to go home, would once again become a fairy tale. The four of them were here sitting at a dinner table that belonged to a long lost world full of childish gaiety and family baseball games. Perhaps this was a waking dream.

Scarlet had had plenty of waking nightmares but rarely a waking dream. Always at the back of her mind in times of calm was a sense of pending doom like that extra wave of zombies she hadn't counted on in Ferriday or those few instances when she'd gone to take out a rogue vampire and his slayer insurance policy tried to cash her in.

The white china tea set glistened in the added shine from the tall stately white candles standing beside the demolished roast.

Tank was sullen, deep in his own murky gloom. It seemed only Scarlet was privy to this mood he was in, or perhaps Honker and Binkie were simply used to it. She glanced up at Honker, sitting unconcernedly, helping himself to the last morsels of salad from the serving bowl. It rather seemed Honker was in a very good mood and neither Tank nor anyone else was interested in bothering him.

Scarlet's thoughts caused her to review the two boys' mother sitting to her right. Binkie had lost her husband out on the streets. Scarlet couldn't discern too much from the woman's behaviour but Binkie's bravado alone was something to remark upon. Or so it seemed. But for anyone to examine this world of hers that Mrs. Muddlefoot clung to, this 'normal' bubble realm, they would note that there was only one component of the widow's reality that belonged in the non-fiction category and that was her two sons. They supported her and she supported them. These three normal people were locked into this fictional play derived from the past like a ritualistic supplication before some sort of shrine.

It seemed to Scarlet that she had once again found yet another soul who had traded off at least some of her earthly grounding for a token of ethereal happiness. Scarlet sat back having finished her meal, staring at the tracings of salad dressing on her plate. Ordinarily Scarlet would have no argument against trading a little reality away for a piece of illusory sanity. It was just that Binkie's particular brand of delusions was slightly unnerving. Scarlet's father was also haunted by the lost, but baking brownies and singing show tunes was as close as his dementia got to Binkie's brand of tragic.

* * *

"I'm very pleased to have you over for tea, dear."  
"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Muddlefoot." Scarlet smiled at Binkie. "It was delicious."  
"It's much better having the two of you inside where it's safe" Binkie added pointedly "rather than running about out there where it isn't safe."

Scarlet nodded soberly. It was the sense of loss that was haunting this place and the residents felt it keenly. "Honker's told me what happened to your husband. I'm really sorry."  
"Oh ... never mind me, dear. Just as long as the rest of us ... well, that is if we stick together. My boys are everything to me." Binkie shivered; on the verge of having a dark thought but chattered on, not allowing it to take root. "It's such a good thing that the police are doing something about all this bad business, don't you think?"

The glossy rose-coloured notion butted harshly against the embattled realist within Scarlet and her temper flared. There was a grave importance of keeping dual identities of which she was very much aware but Scarlet had to voice at least some objection.

"The last time I checked the police 'were' the bad business."

"Oh, now don't be silly, dear." Binkie clucked; her feathers were entirely unruffled by Scarlet's negative assertion. "If we don't trust the police why then who would we be able to trust?"  
"Yeah ..." Scarlet repeated emptily. "Indeed. Who could we trust?"

Scarlet glanced at Honker who had finished his plate again and was finally sitting back. "Oh, do let me get those dishes for you, Mrs. M." Scarlet cast a levitation spell and sent the dirty dinner dishes flying into the kitchen. Then an inexplicit atmospheric vibe made her look back at Tank.  
"Thanks for dinner, mum." Tank fixed a pointed glare on Scarlet. Picking up his glass of water he stood up and passed behind her like a dark storm cloud over into the Muddlefoots' lounge room.  
Scarlet caught the drift. "Excuse me." She followed Honker's older brother as the other two went into the kitchen.

* * *

He twisted around to face her. "I know who you are." Tank snarled accusingly. "Gosalyn Mallard." He added in a scathing tone. "So you've finally returned." The boy built like a steam roller pointed back towards the kitchen. "Just when I thought he was finally getting over you."  
"I think there's been some-."  
"You can act your heart out playing the queen of fairies, but I know better."  
"Why, Tankard-."  
"I wasn't born yesterday so you can quit the cotton candy act and I'm not finished my bit!" He was glaring death daggers now and in his menacing voice there was a strong defensive note. "Now I want you to listen good and careful, 'Scarlet'." He snarled her name at her and poked her with his podgy finger. "Honker's 'my' little brother, you hear?" He thumbed towards himself. "He's got brains so if you're going to go out with him I expect you to hear him out or I'll pound ya into the dirt. I'll also pound ya into the dirt if you ever dare rough him up."

Scarlet blinked at Tank. "Whoa. You've sure changed since we were kids."  
"Plus if you skip out on him like you did the last time I'll find ya and then-."  
"You'll pound me?"  
"-I'll pound ya. Right. Now did you get all of that or would you like me to repeat it?"

"No, no need to repeat it. I'm pretty sure I got all that." She nodded at him, feeling a bit dumbstruck.  
"Good." Tank turned from her and that was the end of the lecture.

Grabbing the remote from the caddy on the table Tank flicked the huge TV on and settled down on the lounge with his drink in his other hand.  
"Uh, what's on?" Scarlet queried with a caution like she was stepping out into the silence following a rather nasty storm.  
"After the news is finished Wheel or Deal is on."  
"I thought it was 'Wheel of Torture'?"  
"Pfft, that crummy show was canned ages ago. They hired a new host. Changed the name, changed everything. It's nothing like Wheel of Torture."  
"Is it any good?"  
"Are you kidding me?" Tank retorted. "The ratings are so high the other networks tune in to watch it. All SCTV's got running right now is 'Watching Grass Grow'."  
Scarlet sat down on the far side of the lounge chair. "What are the rules?"  
"It all depends on what the contestant chooses to go with."  
"So, what? Does the wheel represent potluck?"

Tank didn't answer; his eyes were glued to the news report. Scarlet watched the latest statistics scrawling at the bottom of the screen. Another fourteen dead or missing, twenty three degrees of sunshine, police raided the 1300 Restaurant recently closed for refurbishment and the bi-annual comedy festival was set to go off at the Blue Parrot Club on the same night as the school dance meaning that was one event she would be skipping. "That comedy festival sounds good." Scarlet commented offhandedly to Tank. "So many people around here deserve some cheering up."  
Tank grunted in wordless acknowledgement.

Honker sat down beside Scarlet. "After Tank's game show it's Duckly versus the World. That's got lots of science gags in it."  
"Oh." Scarlet raised an eyebrow at Honker's enthusiasm. "You know after not having a TV around for so many years-."  
"Shhh!" Tank hushed her. "It's on."

* * *

_"Good evening!" Liquidator popped up on centre screen in a cheery slightly damp voice. "Thank you very much to those of you our regular viewers at home who watch 'Wheel or Deal!' But tonight this evening's entertainment will not be brought to you by Quackerjack Toys. Tonight we have a one and only special edition broadcast. Tonight the most watched show by Canardians in this time slot will be brought to you by The Fearsome Six!"_

_Liquidator splashed into a puddle and now that he was not filling the screen so completely it was revealed five oddly dressed figures were lined up before the camera. I__n the next moment the watery dog bubbled back into shape further away __beside Quackerjack, the now successful specialty toymaker. Quackerjack was wearing a mismatched red and blue outfit. Beside him Megavolt wore a familiar yellow rubber jumpsuit with blue rubber sole sneakers and gloves. Without his battery pack strapped to his back the electrified rodent appeared rather much taller than Phantom Duck beside him. Phantom Duck from hat to gloves to cape and mask and jacket, every stitch of fabric on him was black which made his white feathers seem crisp and almost deathly white.__ Bushroot equally dwarfed the shadowy black clothed figure standing on the other side of him._

_The girl on the end of the row standing last next to Bushroot was dressed in dark purple. The feather in her cap was a light purple to match the colour of the silky lining of her cape and was almost a match for Bushroot's vibrant hair petals. Her outfit wasn't all purple, however. She wore a teal coloured skivvy under her vest, a grey triangular cap, grey gloves grey boots and a black utility belt and a black quiver on her back._

_"Now, some of you who watch the news-." Liquidator began._  
_Megavolt's teeth literally glowed with electricity as he chimed in. "-May have heard that our esssteemed police commissioner's hired a vigilante slayer who likes knocking down people's doors."_

_Quackerjack added on, waggling his finger. "And police department expenses mean more taxpayer money." His enthusiastic voice had a ring of parental disapproval._

_The black clothed Phantom Duck stepped forwards next, flicking his cape back, taking an extra moment, pushing him far out of sync with the others. Banishing all hope brought on by Quackerjack's upbeat nature he spoke in a low grumbling cadence that would strike fear in anyone with an ounce of sense who was standing in his direct path. "Your taxpayer's money that is going somewhere other than to stopping this city's escalating crime rate."_

_The next to speak was Bushroot. "And since the police can't even be bothered to keep the people under state protection safe-!" Bushroot glared with heated disenchantment at the camera. He seemed largely unaffected or perhaps even empowered by standing next to such a forbidding person as the black clothed menace._  
_"-We're stepping in to clean up." The girl in purple concluded._

_"That's __Liquidator-__"  
__"Megavolt-"  
__"__Quackerjack-__"  
__"Phantom Duck-"  
__"Bushroot-"  
__"And The Quiverwing Quack."__  
_

_"Run, run, run, as fast as you can!" Quackerjack laughed._  
_"Tremble in your houses!" Bushroot folded his vines._  
_"We are the Fearssssome Six!" Megavolt sparked._  
_"We're bad and we're mean." Liquidator proclaimed._  
_"We're dangerous ..." The dark silhouette of Phantom Duck's voice claimed in his slow, menacing voice._  
_"And we're keen!" Spoke the crisp new voice of the sixth member._

_"All deals are off the table!" Liquidator announced._  
_"We do love the wheel, though." Quackerjack smiled._  
_"We don't play it safe anymore." A rather grim Bushroot stated._  
_"We're not playing for money." Megavolt snorted._  
_"We sure don't play it soft." Quiverwing pronounced._  
_"Play our game; it's to die for." Phantom stared at the camera._

_"So here's the warning: the Fearsome Six are lethal." Liquidator reported._  
_"They say I'm more deranged than lethal." Quackerjack suddenly turned to Liquidator in a more conversational tone._  
_"Well, they insist I'm mad." Bushroot advised. "But can you really blame me though?"_  
_"They were right about me; I am crazy." Megavolt shrugged._  
_"... Nobody says anything mean about me." The Quiverwing Quack mused with an air of disappointment, looking on at the others._

_"Well, yes, that's true." Phantom Duck agreed with her aside. "The fact is that they don't say anything at all; not after you are finished with them, Quiverwing."_  
_"Oh, yeah." She smiled again._

_Phantom Duck approached the camera. "All is fair in death and war. It's your choice about what side you're on, but guaranteed, the Fearsome Six will be out here on the streets looking to stop you criminals one by one once and for all." The duck menace narrowed his eyes. "And-I-do-mean-'permanently'." He turned from the camera and returned to the line up._

_"We now return you to your regularly scheduled program." Megavolt announced pleasantly. The recording ended and the title 'Wheel or Deal' splashed up onto the screen in bold glittering letters as if nothing strange had happened._

* * *

Steelbeak flicked off the TV and turned back to Grizlykoff. The walls of the Mayoral office were something of a citrus yellow with crisp white architraves, ceilings, doors and skirting boards. There was a nice cubist painting that Steelbeak had put up on the wall when he'd moved in but frankly right now all he could see was the great brown bear in the bland grey suit whose personality seemed to have more sharp points and wrong turns than the Three Ducks and Their Guitar.

"So where the heck is that slayer? I wanna roast him on a spit!"  
"I could not locate him today." Grizlykoff answered blandly.  
"That ain't good enough!"  
Grizlykoff stared at the screen. "It is a pity they could not think up a more ingenious name."  
"Oh, right, coz a trash compactor by any other name won't mash you into last week's meatloaf."

Grizlykoff blinked. "The Fearsome Six make no mention of you or city infrastructure. Why are you upset at this?"  
Steelbeak was too livid to care about what was preoccupying the Commissioner. "Oh, no reason." Steelbeak clenched his fists as he felt his blood boiling and wishing he had a bowling ball or an anvil or anything to level at this problem. "Just a little matter of Sara being dust! Not to mention that because you failed to keep your slayer on a tighter leash, Reginald Bushroot's out there baying for a truckload of blood-and-bone fertilizer and that Phantom Duck guy, he ain't just a pretty face on a bikini photo shoot ... is he?" In a heartbeat Steelbeak knew how to give Grizlykoff the hot foot. "Is he now?" Steelbeak repeated his question.

"Ya? I mean no?"  
"Well?" Steelbeak grew calm again as he recovered his locus of control. "So who'd'ya reckon he is, Griz?"  
"It is impossible to tell under mask."  
"Boy, I sure got some dull company." Steelbeak sighed wearily. He tapped the side of his head. "Try Darkwing Duck on the old brain box, Einstein."  
"Darkwing Duck is dead. Mayor, sir."  
"Is that a fact?" Steelbeak crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Was there an autopsy? Did you guys have a body to put in the ground?"  
For a moment Grizlykoff was speechless.

"... Both Director Hooter and Darkwing were gone from the scene." Grizlykoff confessed.  
"So who else went missing that night? What about Negaduck?"  
"Negaduck from hospital bed, ya. He had five doctors there witness him just disappear from in front of them."  
"Who else?"

Grizlykoff twitched. "I was under orders, sir."

"Brilliant." Steelbeak gritted. "As a matter o' fact I don't care or I wouldn'a hired you. I sure didn't hire you coz o'ya looks. Now tell me: Who else disappeared?"  
"Launchpad McQuack."  
"Uh-huh. And was this guy supposed to be alive or dead when he went missing?"  
Grizlykoff twitched in discomfort. "I am not certain, sir ... I was under orders."  
"Once again I wasn't carin'. Now let me walk you through what I reckon. The other guys were at the end of their ropes. Am I right?"

" 'Ropes'?"  
"They'd had their last hurrah, on their way out, on their last leg, winter closing in, their number had been recalled, they were turning in for a deep sleep, dead by sun-up?"  
"Ya, sir. All of them were near death when they went missing. They were all fatally injured. Darkwing Duck threw J Gander Hooter out of a second story window. The director would not have survived such a fall at his age."

Steelbeak turned from the Police Commissioner and rewound the playback on the Fearsome Six promo special. "Phantom Duck."  
"You suggest he is one of these that went missing that night four years ago?"

"No." Steelbeak slowly turned back to Grizlykoff, eyeing him. "I'm here thinkin' he's alladem."

"You have little joke, yes?"  
"It ain't no joke. He's been Stitched Together, Griz, I'll bank on it."  
"Sir, we are talking about flesh and blood. Living person, not a ... rag doll."  
"And we are talking about that witchy girlfriend of Darkwing Duck's; Morgana Macawber, not some tinker, tailor or toymaker."  
"How can you be so sure it is this Morgana Macawber's doing, sir?"  
"Well, you remember that guy a while back who brought Bushroot's bride back and saved all our tail feathers?"

"Ya." Grizlykoff frowned. "Yamie was the name ... He was a Necromancer who brought that vampire back to undead. You were not telling me of this plan you had ... What has this ... Yamie person to do with Darkving Duck?"

"After I paid him handsomely for his troubles Yamie and I got chatting. I'm always interested in expanding my mental horizons and it ain't every day I get to meet new geniuses."  
"He was a rather unseemly character."  
"And your guy ain't? I like to butter my bread. It's what helped win me this seat. It'll help me to keep it." He gestured to the Mayoral office around them.

Steelbeak carried on, "Yamie told me about this cleric spell called Stitched Together. And we're missing four bodies. And for cleric see 'witch' and for witch see 'Darkwing Duck's girlfriend'. Hefty coincidence ... if you believed in coincidences. Four missing bodies, a witch and now this sociopathic look-a-like callin' himself 'Phantom'? It's a shoe-in."  
Grizlykoff shook his head. "Fantasy."

Steelbeak pointed the remote back at the screen. "Modern science allows us to replace certain organs that are damaged, right? Kidney transplants, skin grafting and laser eye surgery." He tapped his metal beak meaningfully. "Person to person. From the recently dead to the rapidly departing or at least that's the glossy paint they like to use to sell that picture. But imagine the day they perfect the technique. A magical spell called 'Stitched Together' suddenly doesn't sound so fantastical, does it? Hardly seems magical at all these days." Steelbeak turned off the screen and turned back to Grizlykoff.

"There is nothing here but conjecture." Grizlykoff announced flatly.  
"So what?" Steelbeak said, irate again. "I ain't professing no detective degree! You're the Police Commissioner; you and your men can figure it all out. But I am the Mayor and I just want one thing, Griz. You do know what that is, don't you?"  
"No, sir, what would that be?"

At his wits end Steelbeak chuckled, took a large breath and then yelled at the top of his voice at Grizlykoff.

"I-want-that-bad-gum-slayer-stopped!"


End file.
